Lore of the Land
by Southern Hearts
Summary: Magic AU The Akuma encroached in on the land a little each year, with only the guardian Chat Noir to keep it at bay. Marinette has always been unlucky, being chosen as a 'bride' for Chat Noir shouldn't have been a surprise. Whisked away from everything she knows, Marinette soon learns there's more to the ageless wizard than meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1

**White Butterflies**

They'd lived near the Border for as long as anyone could remember. Marinette didn't know why, most sensible people stayed as far as they could.

No one knew exactly what the Border was, just that no one dared cross it and those that did came out… _changed_. Generations past had marked the line of its territory with a wall of white stone to warn away the foolish wanderer. Not a hundred feet from the wall started the Border, a seemingly endless expanse of ancient trees and thick underbrush. In the darkness, and on a clear day, you could see swarms of white butterflies flitting amongst the trees. This, Marinette's Grandmere had said, was a good sign, for as long as the butterflies remained white, the Border remained asleep.

Time and age had decayed most of the wall to rubble, but the line had always held true and the Border had remained silent.

Until now.

There hadn't ever been more than stories about it either, tall tales of monsters in the wood and a sickness that stole the souls of its victims. Some even said a god walked in those woods and was angered when mortal man trespassed upon its domain.

Whatever the truth, no one had seen much come out of that place for generations, until a young boy from Marinette's village vanished into the Border.

It was the largest village in the Valley and the closest to the Border, though it was only in recent years that it had grown in size. Still, it was small enough that most people knew one another quite well and Ivan had been a playmate of Marinette's since they were children.

He was a large boy, gentle despite his outward appearance of gruffness and with a very sweet nature about him. Marinette could only remember him fondly and with a sense of regret. That day had happened so quickly though, it was hard not to think of the _what ifs._

They were all fourteen and Ivan had a crush on the local tanners daughter, Mylene. He was upset that day after being teased about it and disappeared in a huff. They didn't know it then, but Ivan had stormed too close to the Border and was taken by an Akuma.

Akuma happened when the butterflies turned black. They possessed the unwary, turning them and making them do terrible things. The woods of the Border became darker that day, stretching out over the land as though they were trying to take over. In hindsight, that was the Border's very purpose. The roots of the trees grew further, the boughs shook and scattered seeds into the dirt, growing quickly even as the Akuma changed Ivan.

He came then. He descended upon the village roaring in anger and pain. A great, stone Gollum, bent on revenge and destruction. Marinette could still see the beast in her mind, hear the devastating blows as it crushed homes and livelihoods with its fists. People scattered, screaming in fear as the very earth beneath them shattered to pieces. Lives were lost that day, young men who were brave enough to fight, old ones who couldn't move out of the way in time and even children who found themselves in the wrong place.

None of them knew then that it was Ivan.

And that was when Chat Noir came.

Cloaked in shadow, green eyes glowing, he came and with his magic defeated the great stone beast, driving him back towards the Border.

But he wasn't able to save Ivan.

Today Ivan stood, right at the Border's edge, like a warning to them all. He was nothing more than a statue now, frozen forever. Vines and moss grew over his great, stony crags. There was no movement now, save for the occasional bird that landed on his head.

His family and Mylene were the only ones who dared approach, laying flowers at his feet like it was a grave marker. Marinette went too sometimes, if only to support her mourning friend.

After the attack, Chat had ordered the men follow him with axes and torches. Together they hacked and burned the over grown edges of the Border before they could encroach further.

" _Stay in the light_ ," the wizard had warned, " _You must focus only on your task. The Akuma feed on negative emotions_."

It was unusual for Chat to be so serious. Whenever they had seen the wizard in the past, he always had a smile and a joke ready. But this time, as they would soon find out, there was nothing funny to be seen in the situation at all.

Ivan's family had begged, wasn't there anything he could do for their son? Chat's expression was sad when he shook his head.

" _I don't have the right power to do that_ ," he explained, " _I can contain, but I cannot purify. Any attempt I made would more likely kill Ivan than free him_."

The occupants of the Valley did not see Chat Noir often, though he was well known throughout. A powerful wizard who had been commissioned with guarding the Border by the King himself. He roamed the land, a reckless, carefree being that had been around for as long as anyone could remember. Always dressed in black, moving like a shadow though the countryside and always appearing where he was needed the most. There were rumours about his origins, though no one knew for sure. They said he had made a deal with a god of chaos, granting him power over destruction. Others said he was the embodiment of bad luck, and that was why he never stayed in one place too long. The more far-fetched claimed him to be the bastard son of a long ago king, banished to a solitary existence patrolling the Border.

Whatever he was, he was their Chat Noir. Their wizard. Their lord. Their guardian.

Marinette hadn't paid much attention to him that day. Her father had been injured in the attack and she was busy helping bandage wounds and clean up rubble. But at the end of it, she saw him.

She was crossing the village green, a bundle of linen in her arms when something drew her gaze towards the Border. Smoke was rising in the air from where they were burning the woods back and the sound of axes chopping could be heard in the distance. The sky was dull and grey, the air dry with the smell of burning. There he was, standing watching, his back to her. The hood of his cloak was down, revealing gold blonde hair and two leather cat ears. She wondered why he wore them.

She stopped, watching him without knowing why. As though sensing her gaze, the ears suddenly perked and the head whipped around. Green eyes found hers, piercing and glowing despite the dull light. Everything froze and the breath hitched in her throat. Something shot through her and she felt…afraid. The green eyes blinked and a tired grin spread across his face. He turned around fully, bowing to her from the waist.

Cheeks burning, she turned away and hurried along. She tried to ignore the pit in her stomach as she realized, just before he smiled, he had looked scared too. That was the second time she had ever seen him.

It was not the last Akuma attack, but that first had been the most brutal. Every time though, Chat was there to stop the evil before it could cause too much damage. The first victims though, the ones who became possessed, were always lost.

As her Grandmere would have said, the bad times had come again.

Still, their village remained luckier than others. It had always been lucky, if truth was to be told. The people were a hardy sort and their stubbornness had paid off with almost two decades of good fortune. Trade ran well in the area, the farmers always produced plenty of food and even the poorest of the inhabitants lived well. It seemed the only bit of bad luck they suffered from were the Akuma attacks and those were dealt with by Chat.

So no one ever went near the Border. No one dared, for there hadn't been a soul to come out unscathed by whatever twisted magics lay within.

Well, except for Marinette.

When she was a very little girl, she had wandered into the woods alone. For twelve days no one saw neither hide nor hair of the child, her parents had been out of their minds with worry, while the people of the village shook their heads in pity, writing off Marinette as lost for good. No one had ever come out after so long after all.

Just when hope seemed lost, Chat Noir had stridden in on the thirteenth day and come out with her again before the sun had set. She didn't remember much except for dancing lights and the wizard's strong arms around her.

And she was fine, completely fine Chat had assured her worried parents. It wasn't an Akuma that had led her in, but a _feu follet_. A ghost light.

The village had been wary of her for a while, some parents warned their children off her and others ignored her like she didn't exist. The answer became clearer as she was older.

Marinette was bad luck.

Not to anyone but herself of course, but people didn't need much to shy away. She was clumsy and awkward. She broke things, lost them, and tripped when there was nothing there. If there was mud on the ground, her skirts found it. She ripped her clothes and dirtied her knees more times than any other child in the village.

When she got a little older and it became clear Marinette wasn't a threat to anyone, except herself, the wariness was replaced by pity. It was generally whispered that Chat Noir had cursed her for wandering into the Border as a warning to anyone else foolish enough to try.

Marinette wasn't sure if that was true or not, but it certainly explained a lot.

"You're not cursed," her mother would scold her playfully, "We all have an awkward stage when we're younger, you'll grow out of it."

She said that every year.

The one consolation about always ripping her clothes, was that Marinette learned how to mend them and by extension, how to make them. She fell in love with making her own clothes and then her family's too. She enjoyed the process of creating something new and kept sketches of all kinds of designs pinned about her room. When she was fifteen she managed to convince the local seamstress to take her on as an apprentice and soon she was known for being more than just unlucky. Anything she mended lasted longer than before and she had a knack for fitting clothes to suit her customers. Her dream was to open up a shop of her own someday, perhaps faraway in one of the fashionable cities to the north.

Dreams aside, her life was good. Akuma aside it might have been perfect. But then, nothing in life ever is.

 **~ML~**

Nathanael worked in the printer's shop. He worked the machine and spent his spare time creating beautiful pictures and illustrations. He was a tall youth, with a mop of bright red hair he kept combed straight. It hung secured into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His fingers were always stained with ink and he had a quiet, soft-spoken way about him.

He was nineteen now and on the verge of taking over the print shop from his aging master. It was generally agreed amongst the gossiping mothers of the village, that he was a very descent match for any of their girls. As it was, he had his eye on the baker's daughter, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

It was a bright morning when he decided to propose to the apprenticed seamstress. He had washed the ink from his hands and put on his best shirt. He collected his sketchbook, the portrait of the girl in question he had finished last week nestled inside.

He left the shop to buy flowers, a whole bushel of pink blossoms he knew she would love. He put every care and attention into making everything as perfect as he could. He'd surprise her at her parents' shop; ask her to take a walk with him in the fields and when they climbed the hill overlooking the village, he'd ask her.

She was a sweet girl, perhaps a bit clumsy, but Nathanael didn't care. She had always been kind to him when they were children and he had been far more awkward than her. They were friends and he hoped…well, he had every reason to hope.

He paid for the flowers, bringing them up to his nose to take a sample of the delicious scent. He felt good about today. The village market was littered as usual, bringing in traders from all parts to sell their wares. He marveled at the bright colours, the smells and sounds of people chattering on. Everything today seemed more vibrant, more colourful, and more beautiful.

"A gift for someone special?" a stranger's voice asked beside him.

Nathanael turned and was greeted by an inquisitive pair of green eyes. The stranger was a man about his own age, dressed in travelling garb, a grey cloak thrown carelessly over one shoulder. His blonde hair was neat and he had a friendly smile plastered to his face.

"Yes," Nathanael said, willing to share his joy, "For a very special lady. I'm proposing today."

The stranger's smile widened.

" _Bonne chance!_ " he said sincerely, "I wish you both well."

"Thank you," the young artist smiled, stepping away with a spring in his step. The stranger lingered at the flower shop long enough to purchase a sprig of lavender, which he tucked into a pocket on his vest before carrying on his way.

As for Nathanael, his day was unfortunately not to go as planned when he crossed the path of one Chloe Bourgeois.

 **~ML~**

Marinette was putting the final touches on a delicate blue and white dress. Her fingers worked swiftly with the needle, fixing the hem in place. She then smoothed down the skirts over the mannequin, checking with a critical eye for any flaws in her work. She was basing the design on what news she had managed to garner about the latest fashions up north. The styles were becoming simpler, with modest necklines and a form-fitting bodice. She had managed to find a sky blue fabric for the dress itself and was using white ribbon and lace to accent its features.

She smiled to herself. This was something she was good at and she reveled in the triumph of completing another gown. She'd added other details to this one, shortening the hem and slimming the waist in an attempt to mimic the dresses of her mother's homeland in the East. She'd spent weeks on detailed embroidery and her hard work had paid off.

Marinette let out a satisfied sigh and stretched her tired limbs, stopping when loud voices from outside drew her attention to the window.

She recognized Nathanael's red hair as he scrambled in the dirt, trying to collect up some scattered pages. A bouquet of pink flowers lay forgotten in the dust and a small crowd of people had gathered outside, not one of them making a move to help him.

And little wonder, for in the centre of it all stood a very familiar blonde woman, her arms crossed and a smug smile lighting her face. Marinette growled under her breath.

"Chloe."

The scene she came onto made her blood boil. Chloe Bourgeois was the Mayor's daughter, the richest girl in the village and she never let anyone forget it. If they did, it was more than likely the local sheriff would come knocking on their doors. This and other selfish antics had not endeared her to those in her own age group, who she took particular joy in tormenting. Marinette had been a favourite target of hers when they were children, though she'd since learned not to push the dark haired girl too far.

"Leave him alone, Chloe!" she snarled as she charged through the crowd of on lookers.

The blonde turned towards her, a triumphant smile on her face. She held up a piece of paper, neatly ripping it in two.

"No!" Nathanael cried, looking pained.

Chloe laughed, letting the pieces fall to the ground.

"Looks like Marinette's here to save the day again," she said sarcastically, "Come on Sabrina, I've had enough of these peasants."

The red haired daughter of the town sheriff scurried along behind the blonde. The crowd started to disperse and Marinette rushed to her friend's side.

"Let me help," she said, bending to pick up the torn pages.

"Don't!" Nathanael snapped, grabbing them from her before she could utter a word. Marinette blinked as the pages were snatched from her hands, eyes widening at the sudden red flush in his cheeks and the angry glare on his face.

"Nathanael?" she started.

He shook his head, expression immediately regretful.

"Just – leave me alone," he said quietly, crumpling the torn pages in his fists and stalking away.

Confused, she flinched.

It didn't take much to set Chloe off, but it usually took something. She wondered what…

"Wow, that was harsh," a snide little voice commented somewhere behind her, "Trouble in Paradise?"

She whipped around, her cheeks flushed and anger coursing through her. Almost everyone was gone, but the only one staring at her was a green-eyed man she hadn't seen before. She zeroed in on him, her irritation getting the best of her.

"And what do you mean by that?" she demanded, stalking over to him, "Do you think this is funny?"

The man actually looked surprised.

"No! No! I just meant that – I mean I didn't – it wasn't –" he stuttered out, grimacing. Something guilty crossed his expression and she bristled.

"Why didn't you help him?" she snapped, "No one deserves to be humiliated like that!"

With that, she turned on her heel and ran in the direction Nathanael had gone, hoping to catch him. She didn't know what was going on, but she wasn't about to leave a friend to deal with the aftermath that was Chloe.

The stranger watched her go, slapping a hand to his face with a frustrated groan and shooting a glare at something in the fold of his grey travelling cloak.

"Nice one," he scolded.

" _Sorry kid."_

 **~ML~**

Nathanael ran, his chest hot and tight. Blood pounded in his ears as he vaulted blindly through the town streets, then out the gates, and into the fields. He kept running, feet pounding on the dry earth. He was furious and embarrassed, humiliated by the jeering taunts of that spoilt brat! He was only thankful Marinette hadn't come a few minutes earlier. If she had, she would have seen a full-grown man brought to his knees by the harsh words and jeering of Chloe Bourgeois. What woman would marry a man so weak after that?

And to have her come in and rescue him…

His face was burning with humiliation. He didn't know how he could face her, face the entire town again. So he ran, until his feet took him far away.

He stopped when he saw the white wall. It was low now, broken into rubble at places where the forest had tried to overtake. The earth leading from the wall to the Border itself was still scorched black from Chat Noir's magic. Not far away stood Ivan, permanently petrified in stone.

Nathanael's gaze moved up to the great monster. Green moss coloured his rocky surface and vines shot up to tangle around his enormous limbs. At his feet there were flowers. Mylene most likely.

It was sad and sweet all at the same time. They were fourteen when Ivan was taken and five years on she still held on to her childhood sweetheart.

Sighing, Nathanael took a seat on a large piece of white rubble and looked at the crumpled pages in his hands. What had once been Marinette's face was now a smear of dirt and charcoal from his pen. His hands, which he had so carefully kept clean, were stained with dirt.

As was the rest of him.

No, he couldn't have asked her like this. He couldn't have looked at the pity in her eyes.

Anger and resentment boiled in his belly and he scrounged the pages up, hot, furious tears threatening to fall.

He'd been so sure of himself.

This was Chloe's fault. This was all her fault!

He wished it were her face he was twisting into nothing!

Behind him, a black butterfly flew free of the trees.

 _A/N: This is…something of an experiment. It's loosely based around the novel_ _ **Uprooted**_ _by Naomi Novik, which I highly recommend especially if you've ever read a Russian fairytale. I have a bit of a fascination with European folklore at the moment, so this story is pretty much just an excuse to research a bit more into it. I didn't intend to take up another fandom, but Miraculous Ladybug was sufficiently addicting enough that I need to get it out of my system. This story I'm predicting 10 -12 chapters at the moment, so lets see how it goes. Happy reading folks!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Illustrations**

Dusk was settling over the valley, the sun stretching out its last rays and bleeding the sky red. Marinette made her way home, disheartened from hours spent looking for Nathanael. She'd managed to rip her skirt in her hurry and now a tear the length of her forearm slid through the dusky pink material from her knee down. She had fingered it irritably before deciding it was time to head home, wondering idly if she still had the right colour thread for the mend. The rest of her thoughts were split between worry for her friend and frustration over the whole situation.

Weaving her way through the familiar streets of her home, Marinette tried to guess why Nathanael had been so distressed. She had never seen him get worked up like that, not even by Chloe. It was so rare now that Chloe caused any real trouble as most people had learned to ignore the spoilt rich girl. Gritting her teeth, Marinette though that if there were any justice in the world the blonde would be married off by now to some rich gentlemen who lived _far, far away_. But it seemed all of Chloe's charms couldn't mask her terrible attitude.

Feeling too tired for anything else, Marinette took a bread roll and some cheese from the kitchen, said goodnight to her parents and went straight to her room. She resolved to rise early and make her way to the printer's shop in the morning when Nathanael was sure to be there.

Her room was almost completely dark when she entered, only the faintest streaks of light from the darkening sky flooding in. Her mannequin made a shady figure in the corner, almost making her jump.

"Silly," she scolded herself, setting down her plate of bread and cheese on her work table and opening a drawer to retrieve her tinder box.

It took two strikes to light her lamp. She carefully turned the dimmer, brightening the lamp and taking a seat at her worktable. Sketches littered the surface. Dresses, coats, suits and all manner of clothing pieces stared up at her. She tore off a piece of bread, popping it into her mouth as she went about sorting the papers. She would clean up a bit, finish her meal and fix her dress before going to bed. After speaking with Nathanael she had work at the seamstress and then –

She froze when her gaze fell onto an unfamiliar sketch. One she knew she hadn't done herself. Frowning, she picked it up, bringing the image closer to the light.

It was a portrait. Marinette was staring at a portrait of herself. It was a simple charcoal drawing, but it seemed like the artist had erased every imperfection of the original. This girl was lovely. She was smiling softly, almost lovingly. Her hair went unbound, soft tendrils falling over the side of her face and her eyes crinkled a little in amusement.

The Marinette in the picture was beautiful and coy and charming in a way her real-life counterpart was not. Marinette could only stare.

"Do you like it?"

Marinette gave a start at the sound of the familiar voice behind her. She jumped, knocking her plate of food over as she whipped around, portrait still in her hands. The light from the lamp cast shadows in the rest of her room and the sky in the window had completely turned to night. She hadn't noticed before. The shape of a figure dwelled there and a cool breeze crept into the room. The window was open.

"Whose there?" she demanded, heart pounding in her chest.

The figure laughed softly and stepped forward into Marinette's line of sight. A man stood there, tall and deathly pale even in the dim light. His red hair was whipped into frenzy above his head, as though he'd just stepped out of a windstorm. He wore a sleek black and white suit, a symbol with three circles of colour, blue, red and yellow stood out on his chest. Heavy black bags hung under his very bright eyes, as though he hadn't slept in days.

"Its okay, Marinette," he said gently, "Its only me."

Marinette frowned. That voice was so familiar. She took a cautious step forward, peering at him curiously. Realization almost knocked the wind out of her.

"N-Nathanael?" she stuttered out.

His smile widened.

"I knew you'd recognize me," he said gleefully, "Do you like the picture?"

She blinked, still feeling out of breath and looked down at the portrait in her hands.

"You drew this?" she asked dumbly.

He nodded.

"It's beautiful," she said honestly, managing to keep the shake out of her voice as she set it down on the table top, turning to face him again. Something wasn't right here. Why was Nathanael in her room? Why was he dressed that way? How did he get up here without anyone noticing? Her parents would never have let a man into her rooms alone.

"I knew you'd like it!" he exclaimed excitedly, taking another bold step closer. Marinette fought the urge to run. The skin on the back of neck prickled and she knew down to her bones that she was in trouble. She couldn't explain the feeling, but the knowing was there.

"What happened to you?" she blurted, then caught his dark look, "With Chloe, I mean. You had me worried."

His expression softened.

"You don't have to worry about me," he said gently, "I'm going to take care of you."

"Take care of me?" she repeated, resisting the urge to move backwards, to cry out for her parents, to turn and run. This was ridiculous, Nathanael was her friend after all, but the look he was giving her wasn't friendly. It was possessive. His eyes burned into her, raking up and down her form.

"You'll never want for anything," he assured her, "I can give you everything your heart desires. Just say it and its yours."

The words were seductive, but the mouth they were coming out of belonged to sweet, sincere Nathanael and that changed them. They were words spoken in earnest, a boy eager to please.

"You shouldn't be up here," she said before she could stop herself, "My parents – its not proper!"

Nathanael didn't answer, but his expression became thunderous. He stepped up to her determinedly, catching her wrist and pulling her towards him before she had a chance to react. The air around them stilled, heavy like a wet blanket. A shiver went through her. His hands were like ice. He tilted her face up to look at him and the smile was back.

But gone was the eager boy.

"Don't worry so much," he said, "There's time."

"Time?" she croaked out, unsure, "Time for what?"

He let her go, allowing her to retreat back to the table. She hit it with a thump, scrambling to get away as quickly as she could. Her eyes darted to the door, but she knew he'd catch her again before she could move. His eyes had said it all. She was trapped.

He took something out from his suit. Marinette squinted in the dim light, confusion marring her features when he withdrew a sketching pencil. She noticed for the first time that there was a pallet strapped to his forearm, like the kind painters used. He started to draw.

An involuntary gasp left her lips as an entire bushel of pink blossoms came to life in front of her, appearing seemingly from thin air. A memory flashed through her, flowers lying forgotten in the dust, a torn page being ripped from her hands. Is this what happened? Nathanael was coming to see _her_? He'd run off looking so upset. Puzzle pieces fitted together in her head.

"Oh Nathanael," she whispered, heart cracking for her friend despite her fear.

His answering smile was warm and delighted and so like the Nathanael she knew. He stopped drawing, plucking the flowers from the air before they could fall to the ground. He bent down on one knee presenting the bouquet to her.

"Marry me, Marinette," he said grandly.

Marinette wanted to cry.

"Nathanael," she said softly, "You're not…well."

He stilled, the darkness overcoming his expression again. He stood, peering in closer to her.

"I feel great," he assured her, "Better than I have in a long time."

"Nathanael," she tried again, "I think you're – I think an Akuma got to you. Its – its clouding your judgment. You need to fight it."

She reached out and laid a hand on his. Her fingers felt burning hot against his icy skin. He looked at her, blinking as his vision cleared. For a moment, he was sweet, sincere Nathanael again. He knocked her hand away.

"Everything is clear!" he snapped, "Clearer than it ever has been before! I see everything! I see the truth! I _know_ the truth! This village is the one that's corrupted, it deserves to _burn_!"

"Nathan-" she tried again, only to be cut off when he grabbed her by the arms, bruising her flesh with his vice grip. She cried out in surprise when his mouth mashed against hers, teeth clashing with the force of his fervor. She struggled, trying to push him away with all her might, but he was much stronger than her. Revulsion and fear coursed through her, making her feel sick to her stomach. _This isn't Nathanael_ , she told herself over and over, _this is the Akuma_.

But it didn't matter how much she repeated it, it still felt like a friend was violating her trust.

Tears welled in her eyes. Stinging and hot as she pushed away from him. Eventually he released her, cupping her face with his hands. She wanted to scream, but what would he do to her parents when they came?

"You'll see," he said softly, and the voice was not his anymore. It hissed lowly in her ear as he brought her close, "When its all over. When the likes of _Chloe Bourgeois_ have been eradicated, then you'll see the truth. And we'll be together. _Forever_."

It was the last straw. She had to get away. She had to warn someone. Gathering strength she didn't know she had, Marinette gave a mighty push, managing to dislodge herself from his iron grip. She turned to run and almost made it to the door. The rip in her skirt caught on something, tripping her. She barreled forward, her head knocking against something hard. As the world blackened, Marinette blearily cursed her rotten luck.

 **~ML~**

Awareness came slowly to Marinette. Her left temple ached and her mouth felt dry. She tried to move, but something hard wrapped around her, keeping her limbs pinned to her body. She opened her eyes in a panic. It was dark, but a bright moon hung in the sky, casting a silvery light over the Valley. She looked around. Trees, there were trees all around her. She could see flecks of the moon shining through the leaves. She felt hard wood at her back. Long tendrils of wood, like roots, wrapped around her body and kept her secured to the tree. In the distance she could see firelight from the village.

Something cold shot through her.

She was in the Border.

"No!" she cried, fighting against the tree that held her firm, "No! Let me go!"

She screamed.

A creaking noise interrupted her and she stopped, breathing hard. Something was coming out of the forest behind her. Slowly, something moved out of the trees. Large, hulking figures walked out from the forest. They were shaped like men, but that was where any similarity ended for they stood shoulders higher than even her father, one of the tallest men in the village. Giant soldiers as tall as the trees, made from twisting knobs of wood. They were faceless, marching towards the village.

"Ah, _ma petite_ ," a voice laughed at her side, "You've finally awoken."

Marinette turned her head to see Nathanael watching her, a manic grin plastered to his pale face. The bags under his eyes were darker in the moonlight, making it look like he wore a mask.

His face…

It was twisted and lean in a way she had never seen before, like a skull laughed at her where her friend's face had once been. He was taller too, stretched thin. The Akuma had corrupted him, just as surely as it had done to Ivan all those years ago, robbing him of his human form. The pencil in his hand was working rapidly on the pallet and with each stroke another soldier came forth from the trees.

"Nathanael! Stop!" Marinette cried desperately, "Please, let me go!"

He paused in his work, eyes boring down into hers. His grin still in place, he extended a hand to caress her cheek. She shuddered.

"Hush now, Marinette," he whispered, "You'll be safe here and my work will be done soon. Then we will be together."

Before she could protest, Nathanael's head whipped round and he gave a laugh. She turned to see what he was looking at and gaped at the sight of an assembled army, all standing rigid at the white wall that marked the hundred-yard boundary to the Border. There were at least two-dozen of them, but all she could see were their bulky silhouettes in the moonlight.

"Nathanael," she breathed, "No, no you can't! People will get hurt! You can't do this! Please!"

She ended off screaming the last, begging. All she could see in her mind's eye were her parents and her friends. None of them knew. They were sitting ducks out there.

The trees around her shook and groaned. Nathanael grunted, clutching his head as though in pain.

" _Yes Hawkmoth_ ," she heard him mutter, " _No distractions_."

He leaned back towards her, his grin leering. He kissed her forehead in a gesture meant to be tender, but that only made her sick.

"Rest here," he said gently, "It will all be over soon. Nothing will keep us apart. Not the village. Not even Chloe Bourgeois."

She cried, tears falling down her face as terror gripped her. She felt more afraid than she ever had in her life before. Every part of her body felt frozen, shaking and paralyzed. What would he do when he was done? What would happen to her when the Akuma returned for her?

She watched helplessly as he strode away to meet his army, long limbs slinking gracefully with every step. She watched as he joined them. Watched as they gathered together. Watched as they started to march, Nathanael making the head like a general leading his troops into battle. However, it wasn't a battle they marched towards, it was a massacre. And when he was done with their village, he'd pour over into the next one and the next and the next. This is what the Akuma did. No one was ever safe from their fury.

"No, no, no, no, no," she repeated over again, as though the denial would change what was happening, "Please don't let this be happening. This can't be happening."

She struggled against her bindings, feeling her skin chafe and bruise under the constriction. The more she moved, the tauter the tree seemed to grip her.

"Help!" she called desperately, "Please help!"

"Not so loud, I'm working on it," an annoyed voice snapped behind her.

She stilled immediately.

"Whose there?" she choked out.

"It's okay, I'm getting you out," the voice was softer this time, "But you need to stop struggling. Its charmed to keep you here, so the more you move, the tighter its grip."

"Wh-who are you?" she asked again, barely daring to breathe.

"Just a minute," the voice said shortly, "I almost – ah! There we go!"

The smell of burning wood and ash met her and the bindings encasing her cracked and gave way, falling off her to thud on the ground. Her limbs felt weak and she tumbled forward, only to collide with something warm and hard.

"Easy there!" the voice said and she realized it was a chest she had fallen on, "You'll get your bearings in a minute."

Strong arms held her up, allowing her to finally glance up at her savior. Bright, luminescent green cat eyes met hers, glowing in the silver light of the moon.

"Chat Noir?" she asked, immediately feeling relieved.

His grin revealed a row of white teeth. He set her down and helped her stand properly. He wasn't wearing his cloak this time, she noticed and she could see the extent of his outfit for the first time. It was black. From head to two he was dressed in black. From the collar of his leather jerkin and shirt down to his steel toed boots. The mask covered most of his face, but she thought he looked young, close to her age if she had to guess. Which was impossible of course, everyone knew Chat Noir had been around for centuries. She wondered if it was the magic that kept him young, she'd heard stories about –

She cut herself short.

"My village!" she cried, pointing to the lights in the distance, "Its under attack! Nathanael – my friend, he turned into an Akuma!"

Chat Noir nodded as though he already knew. Anger shot through her, he should have left her for last and gone straight for the village. She opened her mouth to say just that when he stopped her.

"I'll have to burn the forest back later," he told her by way of explanation, gesturing to the boundary wall, "Its already starting to encroach again."

Squinting in the darkness, Marinette could make out the sight of vines creeping over the scorched earth from five years previously. She swallowed hard as his explanation became clear. Chat didn't want her burning with it.

"Hide in the fields," he said carefully, "My cloak will help you blend into the shadows. When it's safe, you'll know."

His cloak? Marinette looked down at herself, realizing that it had been wrapped around her the entire time. When had he managed that?

"I can't just hide!" she said, shaking away her thoughts, "My parents –"

"You need to stay safe, princess," he said firmly, giving her a wink, "Don't worry, this cat's good at his job. Just think of me as your knight in shining armour, here to save the day!"

Surprised by his words, Marinette fought the urge to role her eyes, recognizing the confident swagger for what it was. But she knew he took it seriously. A village hadn't burned under Chat Noir's watch in over a hundred years. She hoped this wouldn't be the end of his record. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and was about to take off when Marinette stopped him, remembering something important.

"Chloe Bourgeois!" she said hurriedly, grabbing him by the arm, "The Mayor's daughter. She's – I think she's the one that upset him so much. He mentioned her specifically. If he's after anyone…"

She trailed off, hoping it would help.

Chat nodded, trying to go again, but Marinette wasn't done. She held tight to his arm, her eyes wide and imploring.

"And Nathanael!" she cried, "You can save him, right?"

Chat's expression was pained. It made Marinette's stomach clench horribly. Of course he couldn't save Nathanael. The infected were always lost. She knew it. She knew it as well as anyone, but the hope was still there.

"I'll do what I can," was all he said and with that, he was gone.

He moved so fast, Marinette was sure he had disappeared into thin air. She stood for a long moment, clutching the cloak to her before she could make her body move. She knew lingering in the Border wasn't a good idea.

She made her way to the wall and was just climbing over it when the church bells caught her ear. The sound of distant screams filled her with dread and she looked up to see a red haze over the village. The light blared, coming from something stronger than their simple house lights. It was on fire.

She didn't think, just started running, but was brought up short when her skirt caught on something, tripping her over. She cursed and attacked the hem with her hands, ripping the material till her stocking covered calves and feet were exposed. Her shoes were scuffed and covered in dirt from her day's excursions and there were rips in her woolen stockings from the times she'd fallen. She didn't care. She tore the material furiously, trimming it to just above her knees with practiced hands. It was a waste of good material, but she didn't care about that either. The village mothers would be scandalized with how much leg she was showing. She _really_ didn't care about that.

Getting to her feet she took off at a run towards the village with a skirt finally short enough to give her free movement, Chat Noir's cloak billowing out behind her and a knot of fear and elation in her stomach.

She was afraid, more afraid than she had ever been in her life.

 _But…_

She wasn't going to hide.

 _A/N: Some elements of this story might be a bit dark, so fair warning. Setting wise I'm going for a kind of 17_ _th_ _/18_ _th_ _century Europe feel, with magic obviously. And a lot of artistic license thrown in. Still trying some things out, let me know what you think. Happy reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Fortune Favours the Bold**

It was hot.

The smell of smoke and burning was everywhere. Marinette moved through the streets of her home, running passed burning houses and fleeing people. Two of the giant wooden soldiers had caught alight and were tearing through the village blindly, not caring whose homes they set fire to. They were easy enough to avoid and like Chat had said, she kept to the shadows when she could.

"Mama!" the cry of a child rang out, distracting her from her course, "Mama! Where are you?"

She recognized that voice.

Turning immediately, Marinette caught sight of something that made her stomach drop. She changed direction, running out from the shadow of the houses towards the village green. The burning soldiers were stumbling almost drunkenly towards each other, the sound of their wooden limbs cracking from the heat of the fire. They were going to collide for sure.

In their path, was a little girl.

" _Manon!_ " Marinette shouted, running so hard her side started to stitch with pain. She ignored it and kept moving, willing her sore muscles to keep going. Embers danced around her, flying free from the burning homes around them. Smoke stung her eyes and throat.

She ran.

Manon stood, looking dazed and terrified in the middle of the green. Tears streaked her ash stained face. She turned at Marinette's cry, but didn't seem to see the burning, wooden men lumbering towards her.

"Run!" Marinette cried, finally drawing the girl's attention to the danger she was in. But Manon froze, her expression one of abject horror as a scream of terror fell from her lips. As the giants came close, Marinette reached the young girl, grabbing her roughly around the waist and pulling her along without stopping. The force tripped her, making them roll together in the dirt. Marinette tucked Manon close, hugging her tightly as they skidded to a halt. The sound of cracking wood was followed by a dull crash. The hood of Chat Noir's cloak had fallen over Marinette's head and she had to whip it back to see what was going on. The two giants had met in the centre of the green, falling and breaking in over each other. They collapsed into a pile of wood and ash, splinters of flame licking up into the air. Neither moved again.

They were made of wood. Of course the fire eventually brought them down, but…

She looked around at the damage already done to the village and grimaced. In their pain, the giant wooden soldiers had wreaked havoc. Countless homes were burning or smashed in. She could make out the forms of the unburned soldiers, moving through the ash and the smoke. There was screaming and she saw more than one villager running in panic as they tried not to get swept up in the rampage.

She frowned as she watched

"Marinette? _Marinette!_ Thank god!" it was her mother's voice calling out to her.

She leapt to her feet, pulling Manon up with her and checking the girl over for injury before she turned to find her mother's arms around her. Sabine crashed into her daughter, hugging her with a force that almost pushed the breath from Marinette's lungs. She didn't care too much about that though, she was more concerned with hugging back. There had been a terrifying moment when she was bound to that tree in the Border when she thought she would never see her parents again. She sagged with relief, biting back tears of joy. An instant later she felt her father's enormous arms wrap around them both.

They were still alive.

Sabine and Tom drew back, checking Marinette over just as Manon stayed clinging to her waist, bawling in fear. Marinette kept a hand on the girl's shoulder, keeping her close and giving what comfort she could. She had known Manon since she was a babe and didn't like to see the small girl in distress.

She took in her parents. Tom looked exhausted. His huge shoulders were sagged down with relief. His shirt was covered in soot and ripped at the collar. Sweat ran thickly down his face and his hands were marred with scrapes and burns. Marinette's heart squeezed, wanting to know what her father had been doing to garner the injuries.

Her mother was just as soot covered. The blue eyes she had given to her daughter were red and wet with tears, her dark hair dishevelled and a scratch marring her forehead.

Marinette was sure she didn't look much better with her ripped skirt and stockings. Her hair was still in the braid she'd made that morning, but she felt covered in sweat and dirt and soot. The smoke stung her nose and throat, making her voice hoarse.

"Did everyone get out?" she asked hurriedly, too aware of their exposure on the green. Behind them the local tavern still seemed to be mostly intact, though some of the windows had been broken in.

"A lot of people are hiding in the church," her mother said with a nod.

Marinette could understand why. The church with its thick stonewalls and slate roof was easy to turn into a fort during these situations. Many believed that the Akuma couldn't cross over consecrated ground, but the fact had never been proven.

"We need to go, now," Tom said, looking cautiously for any sign of the wooden, faceless soldiers. Sabine started to pull at her arm. Marinette was about to follow, but something stopped her in her tracks.

She had something else she needed to do, didn't she?

But she'd found _them_ and isn't that what she had wanted to do all along, make sure her family was safe? She could get them out now, hide with them in safety like Chat Noir had ordered. She'd done her heroics for the night; no one expected anything more from her.

But like the irrational urge that had sent her running towards the burning village, it stopped her from leaving now. There was still Nathanael, after all and Chat Noir...

 _Chat Noir!_

"Where is Chat Noir?" she asked before she could rethink her options, "Have you seen him?"

Sabine frowned in surprise, still tugging at her daughters arm to follow.

"He was headed to the Mayor's home," she said after a moment, "That's where most of these…things were going."

Marinette bit her lip, indecision wracking her.

"No," her mother seemed to read something there, "Marinette, you can't help him. This is _wizard's work._ He'll stop it like he always does."

She knew that. Of course she knew that. It was just…she _had_ to go.

"I'm sorry," she said, already backing away.

"Marinette! No!" Manon cried for the first time, looking up at the older girl and tugging pitifully at her skirts.

Marinette almost melted at the sight of those eyes.

"Not the baby doll eyes, Manon," she groaned, tightening her resolve around her like a shield, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I have to."

Before she could succumb to one of her biggest weaknesses, Marinette took off at a run once more, tearing herself away. Her family and Manon were crying out for her to come back, her father even tried to follow her, but as soon as Marinette hit the shadows between the houses, she was able to lose him in seconds. Was it the cloak? Marinette supposed it was, gripping the sleek material around her and drawing the hood back up.

The Mayor's house was the largest in the village. A stone built, two-story home with room for servants and a private stable. Mayor Bourgeois was supposedly a minor lord in his own right, but had been given governance of the village some twenty years previously. There were rumours of some scandal in the Capital that had sent him far to the outskirts of the Valley. Marinette didn't know if it was true, but she didn't think too long on it either.

The sight that met her made her pause in her tracks, and she hid in the dimly lit space between the houses on the opposite side of the street. Her foot kicked against a discarded oil lamp in her hurry and she had to jump back quickly to avoid breaking it. A tiny flame still burned on its wick, hardly casting enough light to see by. She could hear Chloe screaming and crying from where she was being held by one of the wooden soldiers, her body hanging aloft as she struggled against the grip. Chat Noir was there, facing against three giants. He had a staff out and as she watched, was using it to vault over the monsters and keep them at bay. Her eyes widened in awe as the weapon magically extended and contracted according to his will. He moved with ease, slipping past each attempt to strike him as sleekly as the cat he was name for. He'd done this before. He knew what to do. He knew how to fight.

What possible help was she supposed to be?

 _None, of course_ , she scolded herself, _you idiot. You stupid, stupid girl!_

Why was she even here? She wasn't supposed to be here, she should be helping her family get to safety, trying to find anyone else who needed help. That would be more useful, that would have been sensible. This was wizard's work and she _wasn't_ a wizard.

She watched as Chat ran at one of the giants, leaping up and ramming a clawed, gloved hand straight through its chest. The wood began to rot and break apart. The soldier couldn't scream, but it seemed to be moaning as it completely collapsed in on itself. The sight shook her. This was the power of the Black Cat, one of the most formidable magic users in the Kingdom. Pure, raw destruction.

And then she saw Nathanael.

Stretched and thin, he slinked into view, pencil working rapidly on his pallet. He drew and the lines of a spear started to form in the air. Chat Noir hadn't noticed. She opened her mouth to warn him, but before the shout could fall from her lips, the spear was finished and flying towards the wizard. The speed of it all shocked her. She didn't even see _how_ Nathanael had managed to do it. Before the spear even struck he was busily working on another one. Thankfully, Chat Noir seemed to notice in time, avoiding the deadly weapon. Unfortunately, the distraction gave one of the giants a chance to backhand him, sending the black clad man flying into a wall. A wall not ten feet from where Marinette hid.

Chat got to his feet, but seemed dazed. The giant lumbered forward, reaching out and grabbing him in its enormous hands. Chat didn't hesitate, clawing at it and sending the destructive magic through the monster. The wood rotted and fell apart once more, as sure as if it had aged hundreds of years in mere moments.

Chat was dropped, groaning in pain and clutching at his side.

Nathanael was drawing again, inching closer to where they were. A manic look crept over his face.

Marinette looked around for anything that could help stop Nathanael, her eyes fell on one solution. Her hand went up to undo the cloak, tearing it off her shoulders. She grabbed the lamp, breaking it apart to pour the oil inside over the cloak, soaking the material in the flammable liquid. The tiny flame caught light immediately.

Chat Noir was not going to be happy about this.

She pushed the thought away and then ran towards the enemy, pulling the cloak along with her like a fiery flag. Nathanael was enclosing in on Chat Noir. So intent on his prey, he didn't see her coming. She screamed, as she grew closer and flung the flaming cloak at him. It smacked into him as though a wind had suddenly slammed it there itself. He flailed and cried out, waving his arms around to get it off. Ignoring the twisting in her stomach at what she had just done, Marinette didn't hesitate to yank the wizard by the shoulder, making him limp along with her to safely. She half carried him, making them duck into one of the houses before Nathanael could see what transpired.

 _Please don't let him see. Please don't let him see_ , she chanted in her head, over and over again. The house was dark and quiet, not yet touched by the wooden soldiers' rampage. She didn't pause, dragging Chat Noir up into the very rafters of the house, not stopping till they were securely out of sight, with only a tiny round window in the very top room to give them any idea of what was going on outside.

Chat Noir was panting, holding his side and wincing. He looked up at her, green eyes boring into her for a long time.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said darkly.

He watched her irritably. She was about to retort when a flicking motion caught her eyes in the dim light. Sure enough, a long thin piece of leather was waving out behind him, swishing from side to side like an irritated cat.

"Is that a tail?" she blurted.

The green eyes narrowed.

"Don't change the subject," he snapped.

Marinette took a deep breath, the answer already there.

"I can help," she said quickly, "Nathanael won't hurt me."

"You sound so sure," he snorted.

"He wants to marry me, he isn't going to hurt me," she said firmly.

The tail swishing stopped.

"Oh please don't tell me this is all because of a jilted lover," the wizard groaned, "Those are the worst ones to fight!"

Marinette blushed.

"I didn't reject him," she protested, "He was already an Akuma when he proposed. I told you it was something Chloe said to him earlier."

She glowered at him.

"And he's _not_ my lover!"

" _Beaux_ then?"

"He's my _friend_!" she emphasised.

Chat paused.

"That you're marrying?" he asked, clearly not believing her in the slightest.

"No!" she snapped, "Not that its any of your concern. I can still help you. I can get close to him."

The green eyes were practically slits now.

"Its dangerous," he said finally, "You're a civilian. I work alone."

"But you don't have to," she snapped at him angrily, "You don't have to fight him alone. You're outnumbered and hurt! This is _my_ village. _My_ home. Why shouldn't I help? Why shouldn't I get to stand up for _my_ people?"

He didn't say anything, but his green eyes blew wide at her words. Marinette cringed inwardly, but didn't back down. She wouldn't back down. She didn't know what had led her to this point, but she was here now and she knew she had the right to be here. No one, not even the powerful, immortal Chat Noir was going to tell her otherwise.

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a loud roar that shook the very house they were taking shelter in. They both crouched low to the floor, peering out of the small window carefully to see what was happening. Nathanael had peeled the burning cloak off him, seeming completely unscathed by the experience. Marinette wasn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed about the fact. The strange skeletal look Nathanael had been taking on seemed even more ominous now. His red hair was wild atop his head and he looked mad. No. He looked…inhuman. There was pure rage in his voice and he was yelling orders to the assembled soldiers, telling them to find Chat Noir. She almost sighed with relief. So he hadn't seen what happened to them. The remains of the ruined cloak lay as a burning husk at his feet, the light from the flames growing low as it ate up the black material.

"You burnt my cloak," the cat-man whispered morosely, scowling at her.

She scowled right back.

"Better the cloak than you," she hissed.

One of the soldiers lumbered passed, searching for them.

"I told you to hide in the fields," Chat continued, sounding annoyed.

"Its my home," she repeated, "And if I hadn't come, you'd be a dead kitty right now."

He opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it, shaking his head instead.

"You're crazy," he huffed.

"And you need help," she said easily, "Do you want it or not?"

His glare stayed, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Fine," he said shortly, "Any ideas?"

"His sketching pencil," she said, "He used it to make those…things. I think it might be the source of his powers. If we can destroy it –"

"Then at the very least he won't be making anything else," Chat nodded, though he had a thoughtful look on his face, "Alright, it's a good idea. You helped, well done. Now go hide in the fields."

She gave him a withering look.

He sighed.

"Fine, fine!" his glowing green eyes bore into her, "Stay low and don't do anything _too_ reckless, got it _princess_?"

She smiled at him widely.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she said, her smile growing at his irritated expression, " _Chaton_."

"I'm going to regret this," he huffed.

 **~ML~**

"Are you feeling okay?"

Chat Noir looked up at her question, green eyes a little bleary from pain. He gave her a shaky grin and nodded. He took away the hand he was holding his side and stood straight.

"Don't worry about me," he assured her, "Its only a bruise, I'll be fine. Just be ready."

She hesitated.

"What if I mess up?" she asked quietly, self-doubt clawing at her, "I mean, you don't think I can do this. What if I-"

"You won't," his voice was firm this time and he actually smiled at her. Not a mocking smile, a sincere one, "Like you said, you have the right to defend your home and save your _friend_. Not a lot of people would even want to try. Not a lot of people would have come back here after being targeted by an Akuma like you did. You can do this. _I_ believe you can do this. Plus…"

He smirked.

"You're too stubborn not to succeed."

She almost laughed at that, taking strength from his words. He watched her for a long moment, peering her up and down.

"Just one thing," he said and before she could react he had used a clawed glove to tear the top of her bodice, exposing the tops of her pale breasts. She gave an angry yowl, snapping her hands up to cover them.

"Why would you _do_ that?" she snapped, furiously.

"Trust me," he said, sounding entirely disinterested, his eyes on her face, "It'll help."

She wanted to hit him, but knew they didn't have time. Silently she vowed to get her own back later and pulled her dress up to try cover up. Unfortunately, this just made her already short skirt hike up higher. Red with embarrassment, she gave up, letting the material slide down to expose the top of her chest. She sent him one last glare when he bowed, opening the door in a gesture that clearly read, 'ladies first.'

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from the house. She lurked around the shadows for a minute, watching for her time. Chat Noir moved too, disappearing to get into position. Marinette took a deep breath to steady herself, peeking round a wall to see where Nathanael was. They had a plan. A good plan. A crazy plan, but it was a plan. She just had to stick to it.

He stood not far from her, though he seemed too distracted to notice her watching him. He looked agitated, his face twisted in rage and… _pain_. He was pacing, muttering to himself unintelligibly. The giant holding Chloe came closer, kneeling down on one knee, it presented her to him, holding her out. For a moment, Nathanael looked like a dark king accepting homage from his vassals. He sneered at Chloe, whose blonde hair was torn loose as she whimpered in fear. Marinette felt a stone in her stomach, never having seen her child tormentor look so…helpless.

"This is all your fault!" he roared in her face, his voice taking on the hissing, terrible quality that shot a spike of fear through Marinette, "All of it! You selfish, spoiled little –"

He grunted, clutching his head in pain again. Marinette started, having forgotten about this strange action.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" he hissed, dragging his bony hands over his face, "I'll find _him_! Just let me finish this and you'll get what you want _Hawkmoth!_ "

That name again. Just who or what was he talking to? Was he talking to anything at all, or had the Akuma driven him mad?

He growled. The firelight coming from the burning houses of the village highlighted his lurching silhouette in the night and he became a wild and terrifying beast. It was like the longer the Akuma remained controlling him the more it twisted and changed him. Marinette felt the fear crashing through her renewed. She couldn't go out there! What was she thinking? He'd see through her in a moment. He wasn't stable. She couldn't do this!

 _I believe you can do this._

She shook herself.

"Okay," she whispered to herself, "Okay."

Nathanael had recovered, the full force of his fury now directed at Chloe. Her head was sagging and it looked like she had finally passed out. His long fingers crept towards her throat.

"Nathanael!" Marinette cried, running from her hiding place, "Nathanael!"

He turned at her voice, blinking with surprise. Immediately, he looked like a different person again, shrunken and exhausted.

"Marinette?" he called, "What are you doing here? _How_ did you get here?"

And he was Nathanael again. Sweet, awkward Nathanael. She could see him there, behind the monster's eyes. In his worry and the softening of his face when he saw her. There was Nathanael.

She ran right into his arms, letting his bony frame press against hers as she hugged him. She didn't have to pretend to be afraid.

"Chat Noir," she said hurriedly, "He – he attacked me in the woods. I escaped, but I couldn't find you! I was so scared!"

His arms travelled around her. She shivered under the icy touch. He was as cold as death and her skin felt like furnace in comparison.

"I won't let him hurt you," he still sounded manic, perhaps if he was less so he'd pick up the holes in her story, but she was depending on him believing what he wanted to believe, "You're safe with me."

"How?" she cried, "How could you possibly stop him? He's a wizard!"

He drew back from her, smiling that terribly grin.

"I can make anything," he said, "Those flowers, my army…they're just the beginning. Not even Chat Noir is powerful enough to stop me. I told you I would take care of you."

"I don't understand," she made her voice shake. Thankfully she seemed to have drawn his attention from Chloe, his attention was completely focused on Marinette.

He brandished his pencil, making quick work on his pallet. She looked around for what he was creating, when she felt a heavy weight around her neck and on top of her head. Her hands travelled there and she felt something heavy and metal there. Astonished, she removed a crown from her head. It was gold and strewn with blue gems; they glowed in the red light from the fires. A matching necklace hung over her neck. Sweat beaded Nathanael's brow when she looked up at him, but he looked excited and giddy.

"You are a queen," he said, clearly trying to be romantic, and in any other situation, it might have been, "I will give you the world."

She blinked, not daring to look around for Chat Noir. She just had to get that pencil away from him.

 _Seduce an Akuma_ , she just had to seduce an Akume. Simple enough.

This was a stupid plan.

"That's amazing!" she said in her best fawning voice, " _You're_ amazing, Nathanael. So talented and strong…I know I'll be safe with _you_ here."

His pale cheeks turned rosy while he preened under her praise.

She licked her lips, knowing she had to tread carefully in the next part.

"Can I see it?" she asked, "I want to see what makes you so strong."

She kept her gaze on his, trying not to appear too hungry for it, too desperate to be done with this farce. She resisted the urge to cringe when his gaze fell down to her exposed chest, openly staring down her bodice. Ignoring it, she pushed forward. _Damn that cat for being right!_ She fluttered her eyelashes and moved closer, tilting her head to the side in an attempt to be coy.

She felt giddy and hot herself. The danger of the moment, the rush of adrenalin coursing through her all worked to make her feel… _alive._

Nathanael hesitated, staring down at the pencil.

"I –"

"I just want to hold it for a second," she pushed, inching forward, "I just want to feel your power too. I want to feel closer to you. I _need_ to feel closer to you."

She angled her head up, her lips inches from his. The hot feeling in her blood pushed her forward, directing her actions.

"I suppose," he said, cold breath hitting her face, "Just for a second."

"Just for a second," she confirmed, holding out her hand.

He brought his hand up, about to drop the pencil into her hand and she felt it brush her fingertips. _So close_. His eyes suddenly screwed up in pain, glowing purple – _purple? Had that happened before? She hadn't noticed_ \- And his gaze frantically went to the side. Marinette followed it, already knowing the plan was ruined even before she saw Chat Noir coming towards them.

Nathanael's snapped his hand away, rage and betrayal bursting into his face. He took his pencil to his pallet, frantically drawing something. Marinette grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. He threw her off, twisting to look at her with nothing more than unadulterated _hate_.

His eyes were still purple, but the colour was slowly fading away as he spoke.

"You _tricked_ me!" he hissed, " _He_ was right about you! You – you're just like Chloe! You selfish, manipulative _bitch_!"

He was going to hit her. His hand was raised and she was already wincing away from it when she was pulled away. It was Chat Noir; he had pulled her away, carrying her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She bit back a scream. They landed together on a roof and he set her down, green, cat-like eyes watching her worriedly.

"Are you alright?" he panted.

"I think so," she nodded, still shaking.

"It was a good try," he said quickly, "Wait here, I'll-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, because very suddenly Marinette sound herself in darkness. She thrashed, not sure what had happened, only to find wooden walls around her, above her, below her and the chest of a leather clad wizard in her way. She flushed a little and drew back quickly.

"What happened?" she said frantically trying to find a way out of the confined space, "Where are we?"

"A box," Chat's voice gave a bitter laugh, "He drew us into a box!"

"Can you get us out?" she thought frantically, "Your staff! Your staff extends, doesn't it? Maybe you can…?"

"I'm on it," he started, and then stopped.

There was a series of green flashes. Marinette squinted, realising they were coming from him. Chat cursed loudly.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Me reaching my limit," he said finally, "I need to end this _now_."

"How long do you have?" she asked.

"Five minutes."

" _Five...!?"_ she gaped, "How..?"

"By getting us out of here, that's how," he grunted, wrapping an arm around her waist, "Hold on!"

She held onto him, still blind in the darkness. She could feel his heartbeat drumming rapidly against her skin. She closed her eyes and waited for the crack of wood breaking as he used his staff to spring the box apart. He released her immediately and rushed at Nathanael who had been approaching them from below. Not knowing what else to do, Marinette worked on climbing off the roof.

She could hear them arguing, the sound of fighting making her move faster. It took some footwork and she had to kick off her shoes to keep her grip on the walls as she scaled herself down. She'd never hope to do this on a regular basis, but for some reason the height and the climb didn't bother her at all. When she returned to the ground, Chat was back to fighting a wooden giant and Nathanael was frantically drawing all manner of things to throw at him. She didn't think, she just moved.

Her feet, now only covered in hole filled, ripped up stockings, padded quietly on the ground as she moved. Her eyes were locked on the discarded spear from earlier. If she could just get to it…

Then what?

The thought almost made her pause, but she couldn't stop moving. She didn't know what she was going to do, she just knew she had to _do_ something. She was a few feet away, running like a madwoman, when something grabbed her. It was Nathanael.

She hadn't even seen him coming towards her.

His hate filled eyes were on her and she bit back a scream when he pulled her back against his chest, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Give up Chat Noir!" he called, "Or I _will_ kill her!"

Chat had just taken down the soldier and was marching towards Nathanael. This made him pause. Marinette struggled, till she felt something sharp press against her jugular. Chat's face, from she could see of it, was ashen.

"Don't do this," he said calmly, "You'll regret it. This is the Akuma speaking, not you. You love this girl, remember?."

Nathanael was practically shaking in fury.

And then everything happened so fast.

Another wooden soldier had appeared behind the cat, pinning him to the ground, a massive hand pressing so hard against Chat's chest, Marinette was sure she heard a rib crack. He gave a groan. Green flashed again, from the ring on his finger she realised.

Not much time left.

Nathanael laughed, loosening his grip on her. Not much, but enough for her to _move_.

She went straight for the pencil in his other hand, getting her hands around it and snapping it in half with all her strength.

For a brief, terrifying moment, nothing happened.

Nathanael let go of her, howling as if in pain. The sound dug into her, piercing straight through. He collapsed behind her, his eyes rolling up in his head. The soldier pinning Chat Noir went limb, but fell forward, keeping him trapped on the ground.

"The butterfly!" she heard him yell out frantically, "Don't let the butterfly escape!"

Confused, her eyes went to the remains of the pencil in her hands and sure enough, something was emerging from it. A black winged butterfly flew out from the remains, flitting up to disappear into the darkness.

Or it would have, but Marinette leapt up, opening her hands to catch the tiny creature.

Her hands wrapped around the escaping butterfly, trapping it with her fingers. As soon as her skin touched its soft black wings, they started to burn. Fire raged up through her arms and she screamed. A pulse of energy shot through her, out of her and then everything turned white. A female voice called her name.

" _Marinette…"_

 **~ML~**

White, everything around her was white.

Marinette found herself standing in the midst of nothingness.

No, not nothingness. There were storm clouds ahead, but they weren't in the sky. There wasn't any sky that she could make out and she wasn't sure which way was up or down. The clouds hung in the space in front of her, so close if she reached out she would be able to touch it. They billowed and shook as lightning clashed within them, illuminating the dark vapours for seconds at a time. In the light she could see the silhouette of someone moving in the cloud.

" _Marinette…_ " it was the woman's voice again, this time it sounded clearer.

Thunder clashed inside the cloud and in the resounding flash of lightning, Marinette saw the figure moving towards her. From the depths of the inky blackness, a hand gloved in red extended out to her.

" _Marinette…_ " the voice whispered again.

Marinette took a cautious step forward, drawn by the voice.

She knew no more.

 _A/N: Big thank you for all the support this story has been getting. I love reading your reviews and hope you have enjoyed this chapter. The next will be something of an aftermath and then on to the main part. Happy Reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Lavender for Luck**

Her body was _so_ hot.

Voices spoke around her, but she barely registered what they were saying. Flashes shot past her vision, faces, the woman in the storm, green eyes…Her mother's voice soothed her, cool fingers brushing down her sweaty brow. Muffled words met her ears. Her name was spoken over and over. She panted, trying to escape the heat.

"… _fevers taken her…."_

" _Marinette, hush my sweet. Hush…"_

" _How did the…?"_

"… _Chat Noir said…."_

She cried out to them, trying to get away from the hot sensation curling through her body. She shivered without feeling cold. A nightmare of giant, wooden monsters, fire and Nathanael's hissing voice plagued her. She remembered her eyes snapping open to a shadowed world only once and much later she was sure it was a dream.

A dark figure stood by her bed, shrouded in black. For a moment, she thought it was Nathanael come to take her away again and she cried out, thrashing to get away.

The gloved hand that came to comfort her was cool, not cold. It lay gently against her feverish cheek, brushing away the hair from her face. A voice, soft and gently made soothing sounds. She looked up blearily into glowing green cat eyes.

"Fire…" she croaked out, mouth dry as bone, "Akuma…"

The hand stroked her head softly in an action reminiscent of her mother's touch. She found herself relaxing to it and the sound of his calming voice.

"Its alright," he said, words washing over her, "Its all over now. Everyone's safe."

"Everyone?" she managed, the lull of sleep already drawing her back into darkness.

"Yes," the hand continued its motions, "All safe, princess. You did a good job. Time to rest now though."

She obeyed almost immediately, closing her eyes and feeling the brush of lips against her temple and a whispered 'thank you.' Unlike the last time someone had kissed her forehead, the effect now worked to comfort her, sending her deeper into sleep.

 _Everyone was safe._

The heat started to recede after that.

The next time Marinette woke, sunlight was streaming in through a window and she was lying in her own bed. She sat up, looking around in confusion before memories of what happened hit her. Nathanael, the Akuma, Chat Noir…all of it. She threw her blankets off, barely registering that someone had changed her into a fresh nightgown and took off downstairs. She raced to the kitchen, following the familiar smell of fresh bread and burst in to find her mother kneading bread dough and her father measuring out cups of flour into a bowl. She flew into their arms, hugging them with all her might as tears and choked cries of thankfulness filled the room. Her father's hands were bandages and her mother looked pale, but they were alive and safe.

"What – what happened?" she asked when they had all calmed down, "Is Nathanael -?"

She couldn't say it. She couldn't remember anything after she'd-

After she'd caught the butterfly.

She looked down at her hands, as though half expecting the small creature to still be there. She remembered the terrible fire that scorched through her body when she touched it. But there was no sign of injury, just her smooth, pale skin.

"Nathanael's fine."

Marinette's head snapped up and she blinked.

"He's…fine?" she questioned.

"The Akuma only knocked him out, thankfully," Sabine smiled, "Such a sweet boy. He came over twice to see you."

They didn't know. They didn't know Nathanael was the Akuma.

"Oh," was she dreaming? Or had Chat Noir actually managed to do the impossible? "How long have I been…?"

"Two days," Sabine laid a hand over her daughter's brow, "You had a nasty fever, but it seems to have gone now. Chat Noir said it was from a backlash of his magic. You were too close."

The last words came out with a frustrated lilt to them. Sabine's hand dropped and suddenly Marinette was in her arms again.

"You foolish girl!" she was scolded, "Don't you ever do something so reckless again! You could have been killed!"

Marinette didn't say anything. She looked up from over her mother's shoulder to her father. Tom gave her a sad smile. Marinette smiled back and wrapped her arms around her mother's small frame.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, "I'm sorry I worried you."

As her mother's grip on her tightened and her father came over to rub circles in her back, Marinette's thoughts began to drift. She had questions, so many questions. Questions only the wizard with cat ears could answer.

 **~ML~**

Mayor Bourgeois sighed as he picked up the last of the scattered papers in his office, setting them down in a neat pile on his desk. He glanced out of the window, observing the stream of workers making repairs to the broken buildings. In many cases, the houses had to be completely rebuilt, too damaged from the ensuing fires that had consumed them. He sighed yet again, feeling more exhausted than he had in years. Chloe had shut herself up in her room and refused to come out. He couldn't blame her after everything that had happened, but it added an extra worry to his already burdened mind.

This attack had been bad, probably worse than the stone golem that had attacked five years previously. It was certainly the worst they'd had since he'd become Mayor.

A sound at the door startled him. Chat Noir stood there, slinking in almost lazily with an air of casual confidence about him. He smiled at the Mayor in greeting.

" _Bonjour!_ " he said graciously, "I see the rebuilding has started up."

Mayor Bourgeois could only nod. They'd had to delay construction. The past two days had been spent hacking and burning back the Border. It had reached right over the wall this time, something that hadn't happened in _years_.

"Yes," he said, "And thank you again. We are eternally grateful. Especially my family, thank you for saving my daughter's life."

"Just doing my job," Chat said dismissively.

The Mayor licked his lips.

"And-and the Akuma?" he asked, "Do you know who it was?"

Chat Noir pursed his lips, considering.

"A passing vagabond," he said finally, "You have no missing or dead, it's my understanding this man was just…unlucky enough to pass too close to the Border at the wrong time."

"You contained the problem?"

A nod.

"Yes," he said, "I thought I'd come tell you myself. I'll be leaving tomorrow at sundown."

He paused, something else clearly on his mind. Before he could speak though, the Mayor interrupted him. There was something more pressing to be dealt with first.

"Actually there's something else," the Mayor said, pulling at the collar of his jacket, "The Akuma burned down one of our storage houses. We – we can't pay the annual tithe in full this year."

Though it was widely known, it was also widely forgotten that apart from his work protecting the Valley, Chat Noir was also their liege lord. The villages in the area paid an annual sum to him, usually by way of food and other goods. Unfortunately the damages had taken a lot out of the village and what with the repairs and rebuilding needed, they wouldn't be able to afford paying the usual tax on time this year. The wizard's eyes didn't change, but a wide smile spread across his face.

"I think we can come to an alternate arrangement," he said vaguely, "A later payment… or _purrhaps_ something else in trade."

The Mayor went through relief, curiosity and worry in the space of half a breath. Was this too easy? He knew that, unlike the lords of other areas of the Kingdom, the ones who were from landed noble families with lineage spreading back generations, Chat was very different. He lived in a tower further to the south, but hardly spent anytime there. Mostly he just appeared when he was needed, presumably roaming his domain in between.

The Valley was a vast area, trapped between the mountains and the Border. There was only one road through the mountain passes that would take you out to the rest of the Kingdom and it remained blocked in the winter due to the snow. Those were the darker times, when the nights were long and there was no way to send for help from the north. In the winter, they only had Chat Noir to protect them. No one in their Valley had ever seen their king; there was _only_ Chat Noir. The people up north thought things like Akuma, _feu follet, lutin_ and any other strange manner of creatures that came out of the Border were only fairy stories. But the Mayor knew. He had come from the north long ago with his infant daughter and he remembered the shock. He remembered sitting in this very room with Chat Noir, who still looked so young, no older than his daughter was today, and listening.

Listening, scoffing and shaking his head in disbelief.

After all, at that point there hadn't been an Akuma attack for several years and for years after he took office, the Mayor still had no inkling of the danger his new home was in.

It was a harsh reality check when he did.

A woman had been taken that time. She had been well liked, generous and the last person you could imagine becoming one of those…things. But when she had come, limbs pale and twisted by some strange infection and with a voice that shattered glass and sent people into comas, the Mayor had believed.

His daughter had still been so small and he remembered thinking he'd never been more terrified in his life.

This last attack had changed that. He had been restrained by one of those giant, wooden beasts and hadn't seen what happened to Chloe after she was carried out of her room, screaming and begging. Whatever had happened out there neither Chat Noir nor Chloe would say, but it had left his beautiful, headstrong daughter in self-confinement for two days.

The damage from this attack would take them months to recover from and the first bite of winter was only a season away. Not only would they need supplies, but also the rebuild of the lost houses was of the utmost priority. The Mayor couldn't afford to pay the full tithe this year.

"A trade?" he questioned, easing into the topic carefully.

Any noble wouldn't have cared much about their plight, but as he had pointed out before, Chat was different. He didn't seem to care much for material goods and often took the annual tithe with some reluctance. The Mayor had to admit he was hoping the wizard would choose to forgo the tradition this year.

"A trade," the young seeming man confirmed, "I find myself _pawful_ lonely at The Tower."

He let that hang for a moment, green eyes watching the Mayor expectantly.

"You want a – companion?" he asked, bewildered by the request.

The cat-man laughed.

"Yes, of sorts," he seemed amused by the Mayor's wording.

This wasn't an unusual request for a noble lord to make, per say. The Mayor had heard of several such rich men in the north who liked to carry on…dalliances with the local girls. It was legal. Certainly, but not something he ever would have guessed from Chat Noir.

If the Mayor were a more conscientious man, he might have tried to get to the bottom of the situation, but as it was, he was only relieved to find someway to appease the powerful wizard. He nodded, despite his confusion, smiling broadly.

"Of course," he said, feeling more at ease, "I understand completely."

The amused expression remained on Chat Noir's face, even as his eyebrow lifted.

"I'm sure you do," there was laughter in his voice.

The Mayor bristled.

He often wondered if Chat Noir had finally _cracked_ in recent years. He remembered meeting a man of dark moods, who rarely smiled. He spoke seriously. He was short, curt, and almost rude in fact. Then five years ago, after the boy Ivan was taken by an Akuma, he had changed. He made quips and joked with the locals, often hanging around to help with the clean up, something he never used to do. He'd heard stories of Chat Noir hanging around taverns and talking to locals, helping with small chores and playing with local children. No one knew what to make of their lord's change in demeanour. In fact, if the Mayor didn't know any better, he'd have thought he was dealing with a completely different person.

Which was ridiculous, of course. The blonde hair, the green eyes and the face half covered with a mask were all the same. He'd always been the same, for generations, for centuries, perhaps even millennia.

"I'll see that it's done," he said quickly, pushing back his discomfort.

Chat Noir was still a dangerous man after all.

"Good," the laughter had died a little and the green eyes were looking out of the Mayor's windows at the remains of the town.

"Was there something else?" the Mayor asked, eager to be done with this meeting.

"This village - no _town_ has been very prosperous the past twenty or so years," Chat commented, "No droughts or bad weather, trade practically flows, and no one lives in poverty. Why, I even hear tell of young men in other villages coming here to find wives, hoping to carry some of your luck back with them."

Curiosity and something else lace his voice. _Hunger?_ The Mayor wasn't sure. Perhaps the wizard was complimenting his leadership skills, he had been mayor for about that length of time after all.

"You've been _very_ lucky, after all."

The Mayor stiffened, a little unsure.

"Luck has little to do with it," he said indignantly, watching the wizard cautiously, "We work hard."

"I'm sure you do," Chat reassured the man, "But there is something I'm curious about."

"What's that?"

The leather tail that shouldn't have had a life of its own moved like a snake in the air behind the _young_ man.

"I want to know who the _unluckiest_ person in town is," Chat Noir said simply.

Only one name came to mind.

 **~ML~**

It was another two hours or so before Marinette was ready to venture out of doors. After a long conversation with her parents and promises _never to be that reckless again_ , Marinette had washed and dressed. Her hair was so knotted and tangled that she eventually gave up trying to tame it, feeling annoyed. She washed it and had her mother cut it to shoulder length. She felt lighter afterwards, as though the hair represented all the anxiety she had been feeling. She pinned it back as best she could and put on one of her older dresses, a soft grey woollen one that had been mended a great number of times.

She had to speak with Nathanael first, she needed to know what had happened in the aftermath and she owed him a proper answer to his proposal.

It was a dark day, with billowing black clouds rolling in from beyond the Border. They reminded her of her dreams. She could still see smoke coming off from where the men had been hacking and burning back the Border once more. She shivered without feeling cold and turned away from that direction.

She walked without knowing where she was going or who she was looking for. She hoped she might run into Chat Noir, she supposed and get the full story of what had transpired that night. As she went, she started to gather pieces of the story from the other villagers, though many were openly staring at her as she passed.

She shifted uncomfortably and moved in.

It seemed like no one knew whom the Akuma had been and Chat Noir had informed them all it was a homeless traveller passing through. _A stranger_. As soon as that got around people were all whispering about the odd red headman they had seen wandering around the village that day.

"I knew he was trouble," one farmer's wife was saying to another, "As soon as I saw him, I told my husband. He'll be trouble. Told him to call the sheriff, I did. But by the time he got there, the man had vanished."

"Shifty looking," said another, "I think he stole one of my pies. I'm sure it was him."

The rumours circulated like that. No one had seen him of course, the man didn't exist, but that was the way of things in small villages. A little bit of excitement and everyone wanted to put in their own two bits about it.

Everyone was out of doors that day, all to help with the very necessary rebuilding. Summer was on its way out and the days would soon grow cold. She was about to give up and head back to the bakery to help out there, when a voice stopped her.

"Marinette!"

Her heart raced painfully in her chest and forced a smile onto her face.

"Nathanael," she greeted as the young printer ran up to her, a huge smile on his face, "H-how are you? I heard you were hurt in the attack."

 _Do you remember?_ She wanted to ask, _do you remember turning into that monster?_

She kept her mouth shut.

He stopped right in front of her and she was able to get a good look at him. His sleeves were rolled up and he was a little dirty, clearly having been helping the men with construction. He was back to normal. Tall, but not stretched out thin and his hair was straight again, secured in its familiar pony tail. His gaze was happy and adoring, nothing like the spiteful creature that had taken her from her home.

It was like nothing had happened.

So why did she still feel afraid?

"Oh I'm fine," he said with a laugh, cheeks growing pink, "Just a bump to the head. I missed the whole thing! Heard this one was pretty scary too."

Her mouth felt dry.

"Yes," she agreed shakily, "Pretty scary."

"Its you I was concerned about," he pushed, "I heard you were amazing! Saving Manon like you did! And then rushing after the wizard."

He was looking at her admirably.

"You were so brave," he said in awe, that happy smile never leaving his face.

She blushed despite herself.

"I was just…trying to help," she finished lamely.

She wasn't actually sure how she had gotten through that night. The memory of everything she had done terrified her. It made her _want_ to throw up. She'd never done something so categorically stupid in her life! She wasn't even sure now why she had done it. She could remember feeling afraid, but also elated and purposeful. The mix of feelings made her pause, unsure how she was supposed to help. From the looks she had been getting all day, it seemed like the story of her antics had reached everyone in the village.

It couldn't end well, these things never did. She had too often been on the ill end of the gossiping populous of the village to expect anything else.

Perhaps her discomfort showed on her face, because Nathanael's expression softened and he asked her to take a walk with him. Surprised and nervous, she agreed. She clamped her hands behind her back and pretended not to notice when he offered her his arm. He led her out of the village, climbing one of the hills that overlooked the Valley. She looked out at the rolling hills, the great river that stretched through and the silhouette of her village as the storm clouds moved in. The wind was picking up when they reached the top. Long ago, someone had put a bench up there and on this they took a seat.

She didn't sit too close.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," he commented, gazing at her warmly, "I was worried."

"You didn't have to be," she said quietly, "What happened to you? Do you…remember anything from that night?"

"I remember being upset," Nathanael said slowly, "I must have run myself ragged. Chat Noir says memory loss is expected from the knock to the head I got."

He smiled at her. Marinette blinked, unsure of what to feel. He didn't remember. He didn't remember any of it. But she couldn't forget. She knew it wasn't fair, Nathanael hadn't been himself when it happened after all, but the twisted, almost skeletal face of her friend still haunted her.

It took a good deal of self-control not to flinch away when he took her hand in his, looking at her with his earnest gaze. Her heart clenched painfully, knowing what was coming.

"Marinette," he said softly, cheeks flooding with pink as he blushed, "There's something I've been meaning to ask you for a while now. There never seems to be a right time, but…"

She took a deep breath. No matter what she felt right now, Nathanael still deserved to be heard. She waited patiently for him to speak.

"I love you. Will you marry me?"

And it was done. She released the breath she had been holding and looked her dear friend in the eye.

"Oh Nathanael…"

They talked for a long time after that. Nathanael drew his hands away as he listened to her refusal, a sad look of disappointment marring his features. He left her and she stayed, watching the clouds as they rolled in. It wasn't until she felt hot tears streaming down her face that she realised she was crying.

If she had married him, she'd be set. She'd have her own home, a loving and kind husband and the freedom to pursue her work as a seamstress. She had no doubt in her mind that Nathanael would be supportive and encouraging. She didn't love him in a romantic sense, but she loved him as a friend and for a lot of people, that was a miracle in itself.

Although she fantasized about finding her true love, such as her father had done when he travelled to the East and brought back her mother, she was also realistic. Her parents did well, but they weren't close to wealthy and her dowry was fairly small. Her clumsiness was almost legendary and the only skill she really excelled at was making clothes. It was something that, although a useful trade, only held a very small part in the list of things necessary for a proper wife. She wasn't a great cook and could hardly keep herself from becoming a mess. She ran her fingers over the repairs she had made to the skirt of the dress she was wearing and sighed. She tore her clothes, slipped in mud and generally made a fool of herself more than was average for a little girl. On a woman almost grown it was practically unseemly.

And now, she didn't doubt that rumours about her adventures the night the Akuma attacked had spread throughout the homes of the village. All the mothers that told their children to steer clear of her when she was a child were probably shaking their heads. _That's what comes of being where you're not supposed to_ , they'd say, _that's what comes of messing around with wizards_.

 _It wasn't fair!_ If Nathanael had asked her three days ago, she would have said yes. She was sure she would have!

Now everything had changed.

She had changed.

She couldn't un-see what she had seen. She couldn't remove the experience from her mind. She wondered if she'd always see it when she looked at him. The twisted, possessive way he leered at her. The hate in his once kind eyes when he thought she was betraying him. She never wanted to see anyone look at her that way again.

 _So much hate._

She shuddered and sobbed.

And Nathanael? If he hadn't been on his way to propose to her, he never would have run into Chloe in the first place and maybe –

Maybe none of this would have happened.

Maybe she was bad luck after all.

"Are you okay?"

Her head snapped up at the voice to see a blonde stranger watching her. She hadn't even heard him coming. It took her a moment to recognise him as the man who had been present at Nathanael's humiliation. It seemed so long ago now. She hadn't taken a good look at him then. He was tall and slender, his blonde hair brushed neatly into a style that looked good on him. He had a startling pair of green eyes and a handsome face. A deep grey cloak was wrapped around him, protecting him from the strengthening wind. She stiffened as he approached, taking the seat beside her.

She must look a mess, all red and wet. It wasn't the best condition to be found in by someone she disliked and she felt angry and embarrassed.

"I'm fine," she said curtly, hoping he'd take the hint and go.

He only smiled at her. She tried to ignore the sensation of her stomach doing a flip as she realised he was…concerned.

"What are you still doing here?" she asked the stranger bluntly, hurrying to wipe away her tears.

"Akuma attack," he said, politely not staring at her very red nose, "I stayed to help with the clean up."

"Oh," she said, looking away, "That was…descent of you."

She knew it was rude the moment it left her mouth, but her annoyance at being found like this overrode her usual politeness. Also, she had to admit to herself bitterly, there was still something of resentment there. If this man had stood up for Nathanael, then maybe…

 _Gah!_ She had to stop looking for a cause. It happened. No use crying over spilled milk, as her father would say.

"About the other day," he continued, drawing her attention, "I really had just come on the scene when you did. If I'd been there earlier, I would have helped. Like you said, no one should be humiliated like that. As for what you heard…"

He smiled at her weakly.

"I've been on my own for a long time now, I guess I need more practise when it comes to communicating with people," he shrugged helplessly, "I'm sorry."

The wind picked up and she could smell the rain in the air. The distant roll of thunder broke the silence that fell between them. Marinette looked up at him in surprise and what she found in his expression nearly made her want to cry again. He was looking at her with an expression so open and sincere, she couldn't help but believe him. His cheeks were flushed and there was a sheepishness there she hadn't expected. He wanted her to believe him, but he was just as nervous that she wouldn't. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks on its own accord. She didn't know what to say.

It wasn't his fault, she knew that. The feeling of frustration dulled somewhat and she offered up a hesitant smile, trying to say without words that she understood.

"Looks like it's going to rain," he commented, sounding relieved.

She nodded.

"It does," she said, glad for the change of subject.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked, looking down at her.

She appreciated his concern.

"I think so," she said.

He considered her for a few seconds, his green eyes bright and the wind whipping gently at his neat, blonde hair. He reached into his cloak and pulled something out, presenting it to her. She looked up in surprise.

"It's a few days old," he said chagrined, "But it still smells pretty good. _Lavender for luck, right?_ For whatever lies ahead for you, I'm sure you'll make it through."

It was an odd thing to say, but the gesture was sweet. Blinking her astonishment away, Marinette reached out to take the sprig of dry lavender from him. Their fingers brushed and warmth spread through her. She blushed, bringing the flower to her nose to inhale the calming scent.

"Better get to shelter," he commented, drawing away and standing, "You don't want to get caught in the rain."

"Marinette! I'm you thank – I mean," she cursed inwardly for the stutter, "Thank you. I'm Marinette."

"Marinette," he repeated and for a second, a wide, familiar grin bloomed across his face. She'd seen it before, though she couldn't recall on whom. Her memory itched to remember, "I'm sure our paths will cross again."

He gave her a low bow, which only served to turn her face red. As he was about to walk away, leaving the dazed young girl behind him, he cast a gleaming look over one shoulder.

"Its Adrien, by the way," he said and left her there on her own.

Marinette didn't move, lavender still in her hand as she stared after the way he had gone. It was only when a fat drop of rain hit her nose that she realized she had lingered too long. She took off at a run, eager to avoid getting soaked through and wondered if she would ever see the stranger – _Adrien_ – again.

 _A/N: Setting wise, I'm being pretty non-specific. Could be like a medieval France, but more of an alternate version. I leave that up to your imagination. Many thanks for all the reviews! Happy reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Bride Price**

It rained all night, delaying any construction work to the village. Though annoying, there was a sense of relief and renewal that came with the storm as it washed away the remains of that horrible day. Marinette spent most of the evening in her room, lost in her thoughts.

Sitting at her worktable, ignoring all the sketches still strewn out in front of her, she buried her head in her hands for a moment and sighed. Her mother had told her to go to bed hours ago, still worried about the residual effects of the fever. Marinette couldn't think about sleeping, her mind was far too awake.

She twiddled the sprig of lavender in her fingertips, idly watching it move. Her thoughts strayed for a moment to Adrien and she felt the heat rush to her face. She wished she hadn't been _bawling_ when he found her. Smiling to herself, she took a sniff, letting the calming smell wash over her. Maybe something good had happened today after all.

She leaned back in her chair, setting the lavender in the table as she looked up at the ceiling.

Now that Marinette had a chance to think things through, she was confused about the fever. Apparently Chat had said it was because of his magic, but all she could remember was the butterfly. _And what about Nathanael? How was he cured when no one else was? Why didn't he remember?'_

 _Would she ever be able to face the young printer again?_

She was jolted from her thoughts when she heard movement below her. She frowned, knowing her parents must have gone to bed by now. She picked up her lit lamp and headed downstairs, walking carefully over the wooden floors of her home. She found her father in the shop, shaking off rainwater as he removed his large cloak from his shoulders.

"Papa?" she asked, drawing his attention, "Are you just coming in?"

His shoulders stiffened for a moment and he relaxed slowly, turning to face her.

"I had a meeting tonight," he said, smiling at his daughter, "Nothing for you to worry about."

There was something strained in his expression though, a troubled look in his eyes. Marinette's brow furrowed and she cocked her head to the side.

"What was the meeting about?" she asked, curiously.

Tom paused.

"Oh this and that," he said evasively, coming over to kiss his daughter's brow gently, "You should be in bed."

"Can't sleep," she replied.

He nodded as though he expected that.

"You should try," he said, "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"Oh?"

"The rebuilding," he finished, "Its all hands on deck."

He made to move passed her, but stopped and turned back looking at her with an odd expression on his face. Marinette blinked; bewildered by the expression that was a mix of sadness and overwhelming pride. He reached out and stroked a hair from her face.

"My brave girl," he said fondly, "Your mother and I are so proud of you, you know that right?"

Smiling, Marinette nodded.

"Always remember," he said softly, "Wherever you go in life, whatever you become, always remember how much joy you bring to our lives."

"Papa?" Marinette's heart was warmed, but there was something strange going on here, "Is everything alright?"

He nodded. Was he crying? His eyes were glistening in the lamplight.

"Everything is going to be just fine," he said, and with that he had disappeared up the stairs.

Marinette lingered for a long time, her thoughts racing. The distant crack of thunder finally got her feet moving, but by the time she laid her head down on her pillow, she had a dozen more questions rolling around her head.

Outside, as the rain pelted down, a lone figure dressed in black moved across the rooftops and away from the Dupain bakery. He remained unseen to the sleeping village.

 **~ML~**

When she woke up, the village was in chaos.

Thankfully not the destructive kind of chaos that an Akuma usually brought, but everyone was abuzz with a mix of anxiety, excitement and shock. _Why?_ The answer came with Mylene rushing into her room wringing her hands and looking wide eyed. Her head full of blonde braids practically bounced up and down.

"Mylene!" Marinette said with a laugh, "What is it?"

The shorter girl took a moment to draw breath, her round face flushed.

"Haven't you heard yet?" she asked frantically, "Chat Noir's going to pick a bride! From _our_ village!"

Marinette let out a disbelieving laugh. The notion of the wizard suddenly deciding to take a wife was far too ridiculous.

"What?" she shook her head, "No, that's impossible! You must have heard wrong. Why would he pick a 'bride' from here? I mean, what? He's just suddenly become lonely?"

Mylene shrugged, seeming to calm down.

"Maybe someone's taken his notice," she said, giving Marinette a significant look.

The dark haired girl stiffened.

"Don't joke about something like that," she brushed it away, "He doesn't even like me."

"He seemed plenty concerned about you after the attack," the blonde said slyly.

Marinette's head snapped up.

"What are you talking about?"

Mylene smiled gently at her friend.

"I saw him, you know," she explained, "He was carrying you, yelling for a healer…it was like something out of a story. Marinette, he was _worried_. Anyone could see that."

"Its his job," Marinette protested, ignoring the jolt in her stomach.

Mylene didn't push it, but the knowing look on her face said she had her doubts.

"Well whatever his reasons," she said, "Every girl in the village old enough to marry is getting primped and done up by their mothers. Everyone is going to gather in the village green at sunset. That's when he'll make his choice."

Marinette pinched her nose, trying to absorb what Mylene was telling her.

"Why?" she asked incredulously, "Why would anyone want to be…a _wizard's_ bride?"

Mylene gave her a blank look.

"Marinette!" she scolded her in a light tone, "Think about it! Chat Noir is the lord of the Valley. The _whole_ Valley! Anyone he marries will be his lady. No one out of the noble houses _ever_ has a chance like that."

"But he's not a noble, at least," Marinette corrected herself, "Not like the ones you hear about up north. Mylene, you know the stories about him."

"It doesn't seem to be deterring anyone," the blonde laughed.

"Well what does he need a lady for, after all this time?" she crossed her arms, "He's never wanted one before."

"He did have one once though," Mylene piped up, "I remember my great _grandmere_ talking about it."

This perked Marinette up, she looked at the blonde curiously.

"He did?" she asked, "Are you sure?"

Mylene nodded, eyes lighting up.

"A sorceress," she said dreamily, "She used to heal the sick and make the crops grow."

This niggled at Marinette's memory.

"Ladybug?" she asked, "You're talking about the Ladybug? She's not real!"

 _The Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir_ was an old story. So old one believed it was true. The Mayor was the only person in the village to own a copy of the book and Marinette had never seen it. She had heard about it though, from passing bards and old storytellers. It was a love story for the most part and spoke of the adventures of a pair of powerful beings protecting the Valley. It was generally believed that Chat Noir had formed the inspiration, but if Ladybug had ever existed, there was no way to prove it. _She_ was just a story.

"No," Mylene insisted, "She was his lady love, I'm sure of it!"

Marinette didn't argue, but she wasn't convinced.

"Well then he should go find another sorceress to marry," she scoffed, "Why would he want a village girl?"

Mylene shot her a deadpan look because there was a very obvious answer to that. He was the lord of the valley. He could wed or bed any of them he wanted to without fear of an influential family being able to protest the matter to the king. It was an unsavoury truth and in all honesty, Marinette didn't believe it of him. He was a bit… _eccentric_ , but he wasn't heartless and he risked his life for them constantly.

"Right," she amended.

"So what are you going to wear?"

Marinette frowned, shaking her head.

"I'm not going," she scoffed, "I don't want to be Chat Noir's bride!"

"The Mayor said everyone –" Mylene started.

"I don't care what Mayor Bourgeois said," Marinette interrupted irritably, "I'm not going. Are you?"

Mylene was silent for a long moment, fiddling with her fingers as a pensive look came over her face.

"It's a good chance, Marinette," she said finally, "To get out of here, away from…bad memories."

This deflated the dark haired girl a bit and she gave her friend a sympathetic look.

"Still Mylene?" she asked quietly, "It's been five years."

The blonde played with her braids sadly, shrugging.

"I know no one ever…comes back," she said, "But it still doesn't feel like he's really gone. If he had died…well at least we would have had some closure. Maybe…maybe leaving is the answer."

Marinette felt her stomach squirm uncomfortably. Because Nathanael _came back_. Nathanael _survived_.

"But going with Chat Noir…?" she shook her head.

Mylene sighed.

"Never mind," she smiled, patting Marinette's leg, "I just came to tell you. If we're lucky, he'll take Chloe with him."

They laughed over that, trying to imagine the rich girl being carted off who knew where with the mysterious wizard. _Poor Chat Noir_.

The blonde stood up, turning as her eye caught the sight of the blue dress on Marinette's mannequin. She walked over, taking a moment to finger the sky blue material.

"You should wear this," she said with a smile, "It'll bring out your eyes."

Before Marinette could protest, Mylene was already out the door. Not knowing what to make of the strange news, she headed downstairs to speak to her mother, only to find the woman already almost at her door. She had the strangest look on her face, though Marinette couldn't for the life of her pinpoint what it was.

"Marinette," Sabine's smile was tired, "Did Mylene tell you?"

She nodded.

"What do you think this is about?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Sabine shrugged, turning her daughter around and leading them back into Marinette's room. She stood for a few seconds, looking out of the window. It was a bright day after all the rainfall and the sounds of construction could be heard duly in the background.

"I'm afraid there's not much of a choice," Sabine said finally, "The Mayor said _every_ girl in the village."

"Mama!" Marinette protested, sure her mother couldn't be thinking of engaging in this lunacy.

"I'm sorry," Sabine looked back around at her daughter, more tired than Marinette had ever seen her, "I wish there was another option, but this isn't voluntary."

Marinette bit back a protest, letting the situation sink in.

"He has said he'll return the girl after a year," Sabine carried on, paused and added with a sardonic sort of smile, "A year _and a day_."

 _Like in the old stories_. Marinette bit back a snort of her own. The hero always had to return within a year and a day, usually because of a curse or a bargain or sometimes a quest to find something. Chat certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

"I thought he was looking for a bride?" she asked.

Now it was Sabine's turn to look surprised.

"Mylene told you that?" she shook her head, "No, I think that's just a rumour."

Something horrible occurred to Marinette.

"So…" she cringed, "He wants a _putain_." _A whore_.

"Marinette!" her mother scolded, " _Language!_ Do you _really_ think Chat Noir would do something like that?"

"Its true though!" she protested, face growing hot, "Whoever he picks, when he brings her back that's what everyone will think, regardless of whether he _touches_ her or not. Living with a man for _a year_ …her reputation would be ruined!"

Mylene's sweet, sad face ran through her mind. Contemplating going with Chat Noir because it would get her away from this place, only to be returned to a worse condition. Marinette at least already didn't have much of a reputation, being bad luck, rejecting perfectly respectable suitors and running after Akumas and wizards like a reckless fool.

 _Argh!_ Why was the stupid cat doing this to them?

"I know," Sabine sighed, "I don't know what will happen Marinette, but we will get through it."

Marinette frowned, opening her mouth to say more when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Tom. He smiled sheepishly, his eyes lingering over his daughter in the same sad way as her mother before he spoke.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, "But there are some ladies downstairs looking for you."

Marinette's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who?"

 **~ML~**

As it turned out, about half a dozen girls had crowded in, all carrying their best dresses and hoping Marinette would help them. For the next several hours, the back of the bakery was turned into an impromptu dressing room as Marinette flitted from one girl to the other, ensuring her dress fit correctly, fixing frayed hems and even adding embellishments to some of the gowns. By the time she was done, it was almost sun set and she barely had time to wash up, brush her hair and put on a clean dress.

She did not, in the end, wear the sky blue dress she had been working on. Instead, she wore a pretty, moss green gown that she usually saved for church. She liked it because it was lighter than her day dresses and had been made and remade over and over by her own hands, depending on the style she wanted. The material never seemed to fray and constantly surprised her with how well it stood up to her creative endeavours. She hadn't altered it yet into the most recent fashion, but she would when she had the time.

Still, in comparison to the other girls she had seen that day, Marinette was dressed rather simply. That was fine by her. Plain, simple Marinette.

Her thoughts had been chasing her all morning, although the sewing had helped distract her. Why Chat Noir was doing this still confused her. A small part of her was sure this was some elaborate joke the black cat was playing on them. She'd heard that in recent years he'd become more of a jokester.

Another part of her wanted to pin him down and ask him all of the questions that had been troubling her about that night. If he could save Nathanael, couldn't he save the other Akuma victims? And how could the backlash of his magic send her into a fever, when she didn't remember him sending magic her way at all? A bigger part though, wanted to forget the whole horrible night had happened in the first place.

Before she left her room, she carefully folded the piece of lavender into a handkerchief and tucked it into her dress. She also put on her old 'lucky' bracelet. It was a simple thing, just red string that she often had to replace and painted wooden beads, but it had been a gift from her _grandmere_. Besides, she thought that today she could use all the luck she could get.

Sabine came in as she finished, a small black box in her hands.

"These were my great-grandmother's," she said, handing Marinette the box, "They're supposed to be good luck."

Marinette laughed as she opened the box. A pair of stud earrings lay inside, twin garnets shining up at her in a deep red. She gasped.

"These are beautiful!" she exclaimed and tried to push them back at her mother, "I can't wear them! Not for this!"

"Please," Sabine smiled, pushing the box back, "I'll feel better knowing you have them. Like I said, they're good luck. I was wearing them when I met your father."

This warmed Marinette's heart. She put the earrings in immediately and hugged her mother.

"Everything will be okay," she said, holding the older woman tightly, "Its all silliness, you'll see."

Sabine squeezed back.

"I hope so," she whispered.

Her parents walked her to the green where she could already see most of the village had assembled. It was a big crowd. She knew they were large for a village, but the sheer number often surprised her. Even the farmers who lived a few miles off had come in, their daughters in tow. Marinette was surprised to find that although she knew many, she did not know all the assembled throng. There were so many new people moving into the area, it was little wonder it was often difficult to keep track.

Why anyone would want to come to a village so close to the Border still baffled her.

Some families looked eager, while others morose and terrified. Marinette wondered how many thought this was a bride choosing and how many suspected something worse. They gathered together nonetheless. A buzz travelled through the crowd as people whispered and speculated to one another. She saw the priest lingering, his look disapproving. She supposed it was the lot of holy men and wizards to never get along. She also wondered if he thought he was going to perform wedding ceremony tonight.

Marinette kept a firm grip on both her parents, taking comfort from them.

She shouldn't worry. She wouldn't be picked. There was no way Chat Noir, the all powerful lord of the Valley, would pick simple, plain Marinette. No way. No possible way at all. She hadn't listened when he told her to hide, she'd burnt his magic cloak and she'd annoyed the hell out of him. There was just no way.

 _I believe you can do this._

The memory brought her up short and her stomach squirmed. She'd forgotten about that.

She was distracted by the Mayor's voice, urging all the young women to come closer to the middle of the green. The green was really just a large patch of grass in the middle of the village. They danced their festivals, watched traveling performers and gathered for summer feasts there. Now it was a meeting place where her fate would be decided. Reluctantly, she hugged her parents and stepped forward, surprisingly nervous. The sky was bleeding to pink now, signalling the end of one of their last summer days. It would change soon. In a few short weeks the nights would grow cold and the leaves would change colour. Then the snow would come and the long winter without any news from the Capital for months on end. Only Chat Noir would be left to guard them then, so was it really surprising how willing everyone was to please him?

She saw Mylene in the crowd, also dressed in her church dress of blue-grey, her hair freshly braided. She tried to go over to her, but there in the assembly of girls all eagerly or nervously crowded together, she lost sight of the short girl.

That's when she saw him.

 _Chat Noir._

He stood next to the Mayor, looking no worse for wear since she had last seen him. He even had his black shadow cloak draped over his shoulders –

She pursed her lips.

After the grief she'd gotten for burning his precious cloak, he just made a new one? _Men_!

She was distracted from her angry thought by the look on his face. He seemed agitated and was glaring openly at the Mayor who looked for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere else. They were speaking quietly, Chat gesturing to the crowd of girl's before him. The chatter had died down at his appearance, but their whispered conversation was still too low for anyone to hear. Chat looked up suddenly, clearly surprised by something the Mayor had said and burst into laughter. It took a moment before he was able to get himself under control and then he looked far too amused for his own good.

 _Stupid cat!_

He strode into the crowd of girls, speaking quietly with each one he encountered. All the time scanning the crowd as though he was looking for something.

 _Someone._

Marinette saw him exchange a few words with Mylene. The shorter girl smiled nervously, twisting one of her braids between her fingers. They spoke for a few minutes and when Chat looked up this time, he caught her staring. His green eyes, much greener than she remembered and almost unnatural looking in the steadily darkening sky, widened slightly. Then the damn cat smirked. _Smirked!_

He started moving in her direction, still lazily stopping to speak briefly with whichever girl crossed his path. Marinette tried to slink backwards and get lost in the crowd, but the sheer amount of people surround her made it difficult, so she contented herself with ducking behind someone taller than her.

Still he was getting closer and she was growing more anxious by the second. Just as he was within a few feet of her, Marinette was suddenly jostled to the side as someone shouldered their way through the crowd.

A bold woman had stepped forward, dragging her unenthusiastic daughter towards Chat Noir and pushing her right up to him. She then began to talk, quickly and eagerly, like she was trying to sell her wares at the market. The sight of it astonished Marinette.

"…she's the best looking lass in the village, if I do say so myself," Marinette managed to catch, "And she cooks like a dream! She'll make a fine bride for any man!"

"Bride?" Chat raised an eyebrow at the expectant woman and grinned, "Ah! Of course! _A bride!_ Well as beautiful as your daughter is –"

The mother preened under the praise, boldly pushing her daughter forward. The blonde haired girl flinched and tried to smile flirtatiously at once, it didn't work out so well. Chat's answering smile, however, was as sultry as a sinner. The poor girl was flushing red in seconds and Marinette couldn't blame her.

Chat Noir's face being half hidden under a mask did nothing to dissuade his handsomeness. It shone through even as his words dripped with charm, making any sane female go weak at the knees. There was more than one reason a girl might jump at the chance to be his bride.

Marinette strongly resisted the urge to roll her eyes because the girl was very pretty with big, doe brown eyes and tall, hour glass figure that would make any girl jealous. And Chat was being _a flirt!_

His catlike eyes flickered in her direction at that moment, as though he could sense her annoyance. She froze, but his gaze passed over her and settled back on the blonde. _Sarah_ , Marinette though her name was.

"Un _furr_ tunately," he purred, "This poor _kitten_ has already been _smitten_."

He laughed at his own rhyme. Marinette was not amused.

Poor Sarah looked an abject mix of disappointed and relieved.

The mother looked affronted.

Chat ignored them both, finally turning in Marinette's direction.

 _No, no, no, no!_

He slinked through the crowd towards her.

 _No! You stupid, mangy cat!_

Everyone got out of the way as he moved. His cloak slunk around him like a shadow, cool and ripping over his lean, muscular body.

 _Don't you dare! Go away!_

She scowled at him, hands clenching, willing him to change direction.

 _No, no, no you don't!_

Her silent glare only made his grin grow, his green eyes focused on her like she was all he could see in the crowd. He was in front of her now.

"Marinette, right?" he asked, eyes laughing, "We meet again."

"You have a new cloak," she accused dumbly, not sure what else to say. Despite the people around them, she didn't feel self conscious in the slightest. There was only her and Chat right now. She had to admit she was little happy to see him. He had saved her life after all and her friend's.

"Ah yes, about that," he looked a little embarrassed, "Turns out you can't destroy a shadow, just dissipate it for a time. Good as new now, despite your best efforts."

"What do you want, Chat Noir?" she asked seriously, earning a smile that was _almost_ genuine.

He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips and bowing low. Her face turned red and she took back any nice thoughts she might have had for him. _The flirt!_

"Looks like you're stuck with me, _purrincess_ ," he purred, "After all, whom else could I pick but the bravest woman in the village?"

Before anyone could react, before Marinette could move and even before the Mayor could say something, Chat suddenly stood straight and addressed the crowd.

"Many thanks for coming out," he said, "I know it was a _confusing_ request."

At this, he settled a steely look at the Mayor, who had the decency to flush with embarrassment. Marinette felt numb. The blood was thundering in her ears and her hand felt hot from where Chat was still grasping it.

"Until next time," he carried on with a flourish, " _Au revoir_!"

She felt a tug. The world lurched and spun. Someone screamed, she was almost sure it was herself.

Together, they disappeared into thin air.

 _A/N: This chapter…necessary but annoying to write. Let me know what you think. Happy reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Feu Follet**

Marinette wanted to throw up.

The world spun for a horrific moment. She saw the red sky of dusk, surprised faces and the trees. _So many trees._ Finally, everything righted itself and she was left shaking on the ground, having fallen forward onto her hands and knees. Her fingers dug into the earth beneath her, still damp from the previous nights rainfall and definitely not the soft grass of the village green. She clung to the ground like a cat afraid of being knocked off its perch and took long, shaking breaths as she tried to settle her stomach once more.

Strong, glove covered hands suddenly gripped her and dragged her to her feet.

"Come on," an all too familiar voice said firmly, "It'll get better if you walk around a bit. Not bad for your first time though, princess."

A hot shot of anger replaced the sickness, sharpening Marinette's senses to a sword's edge as she lifted her head. She glared into the almond shaped eyes of Chat Noir.

"Let go of me!" she hissed angrily, shoving the wizard away from her and looking around frantically. There were trees in every direction she looked. They were in a forest. Ancient trees stretched up all around them, reaching high into a leafy canopy that was so dense she could just make out the sunset sky overhead through the gaps in the leaves. It should have been dark.

But no, she was standing in a forest clearing that was being lit up by hundreds of dancing ghost lights, shining in gold, pink, green and every other colour imaginable. They flitted and danced through the air, around the trees and across the clearing. She frantically wrung her hands at a few that got too close.

 _Feu follet_ were considered relatively harmless, but they had the nasty habit of leading people to places they never found their way back from. Marinette had almost been one such victim as a little girl. The experience had left her wary, even if Chat Noir –

 _Right_ , she had other priorities.

Freed from her distraction, she returned to the issue at hand, mainly the very powerful wizard who had kidnapped her from her home just moments before. He was watching her now, his eyes shimmering like twin lanterns in the darkness. The gentle, glowing light of the _feu follet_ softened him. His expression was hard to read, but she thought he looked a little wary of her.

"W-where are we?" were the first words to leave her mouth and she cursed the stutter that came with them.

"The Border."

Marinette felt an icy chill run down her spine at the words. Her eyes grew wide and she could feel the blood draining from her face.

"What!?" she practically squeaked, eyes darting around her, "Are you mad?"

His tail had come to curl up around his feet and was swishing idly as he watched her reaction, his hands slowly rising in a placating gesture.

"Don't panic," he cautioned, "This clearing is generally safe, but we don't want to be attracting any less than welcoming visitors. They're not always so _nice_."

"Why are we _here_?" Marinette chocked as real fear laced through her, "What about Akuma?"

"Do you see any black butterflies?" the wizard drawled, "This part of the Border is fine. Trust me."

" _Trust you_?" she almost laughed, "You just _kidnapped_ me!"

He actually looked a bit guilty as he shifted around uncomfortably.

"It was necessary," he said quietly, more like he was convincing himself than her.

"Necessary?" she repeated, "How was it necessary? Just because you're some – some all powerful wizard doesn't give you the right to just take a girl like – like you're picking out fruit from the market!"

"Oh, but I'm sure you're plenty sweet, princess," he purred, slinking back into his confident swagger as he leaned forward.

She almost growled, jabbing a finger right in front of his face. They were standing so close now that Marinette could have counted how many eyelashes he had if she wanted to. She could see them now, long and dark they framed his strange catlike eyes. She could feel the heat returning to her face, but tried to ignore it as she let her anger speak for her.

"I am not your _plaything_ Chat Noir!" she snapped, "And I won't be made into some man's _mistress_!"

Chat went stiff, his face turned white, then pink and finally red exploded across his cheeks. He actually stumbled backwards, hand covering his mouth as he gaped at her in shock.

" _What -!?"_ he squawked, waving his arms frantically, "No! No! No! Nothing like that!"

She blinked, taken back by his reaction.

"But I thought –" she cut off, blushing.

Chat peered at her curiously, his lips slowly turning up as realization hit him and finally blooming into full-blown laughter. Now it was Marinette's turn to feel flustered.

"That's what you all thought!" he gasped out between guffaws, "That I – that you –"

He was laughing again.

Marinette turned red.

'Well what was anyone supposed to think?" she hissed, "You asked for a _girl_."

He sobered up at that, seeming suddenly annoyed.

"Your mayor never listens," he said seriously, "I only asked for _you_."

Caught off guard, Marinette felt her stomach squirm uncomfortably.

"But – no! No, everyone thought you were taking a bride!" she protested, " _Oh god_ , my parents! What must they be thinking right now?"

She'd been taken. She hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. They must be so worried about her right now. She ran a hand over her face, trying to make her jumbled thoughts settle into one coherent stream.

"Hey, hey!" the wizard called, getting her attention, "I already spoke with your parents about this last night. Don't worry about them."

She peaked at him through her fingers. She remembered her father's odd behaviour. Was Chat Noir the meeting he was talking about?

"You did?" she asked warily. _What was that supposed to mean? And why didn't her parents say anything?_

"Of course! I had to negotiate a bride price with your father after all," Chat continued.

"YOU DID WHAT?" she let out in a loud, shrill squeak. She opened her mouth to yell further, when she saw his shoulders shaking in a poor attempt to hide his laughter.

"Y-you're _joking_ with me?" she asked, aghast, "All of this is a big joke?"

"Don't look at me," he said defensively, "Its your town's little rumour mill that thought this up. Although…it works out rather well actually. I don't think they'd want to lose their _lucky charm_ if they knew."

"I- I don't understand…?" Marinette stuttered out, perplexed by his words.

Green eyes softened slightly.

"Like I said," he explained gently, "This isn't about me taking a bride or a mistress. Cat's honour! It was always just about _you_."

"Why me?" she asked incredulously, "And what do you want me for?"

The sorcerer cocked his head to the side considering, his eyebrows travelling up.

"You don't know?" he asked.

She huffed.

"Would I ask if I did?" she asked him smartly, ignoring his surprise.

"It's not so much that I want you for anything in particular," he said slowly, "Well no, that's not entirely true either, but I'll get to that in a minute. The main point is that I'm bound by the law to _teach_ you."

Marinette cocked her head, frowning in confusion. The _feu follet_ dancing around them made no sound but she could hear the babbling of running water from somewhere beyond the trees and the gentle chirp of crickets beginning their night time symphony. A light breeze wafted in through the trees, causing the leaves to rustle and she could smell wet earth and pine needles. It wasn't what she had expected the inside of the Border to be like, nor was this a conversation she imagined ever taking place. Chat Noir didn't want a bride, but a student. A student of what though, was the real question.

"Teach me what?" she asked.

Chat grinned widely, sweeping his cloak out around him and bowing dramatically with his arms outstretched. He kept his strange green eyes fixed on her the entire time.

"Magic, of course," he said grandly.

Marinette stared at him before bursting into laughter herself. He looked a bit put out by her reaction, but folded his arms and waited patiently for her to finish nonetheless. She laughed so hard that tears sprung to her eyes. _Magic? Her?_ Not likely. Marinette was probably the most unremarkable person in the Kingdom.

She finally gathered herself enough to look up at Chat. His ears were pressed down against his blonde head and he had a pout on his handsome face. Her laughter almost renewed at the expression. He didn't seem half as intimidating as he had just a few days ago.

"You're not serious," she asked, still smiling.

He raised an eyebrow.

She blinked, smile fading.

"You're _not_ ," she insisted.

"I am," he affirmed, ears returning to their former position, "Quite _purrfectly_ serious."

"Don't lie to me!" she snapped, "I hate liars!"

He regarded her considering.

"I promise then," he said gently, "There are some things I might not be able to tell you, but I will never lie to you princess."

She tried to read him. Tried hard to detect any deceit in him. It was hard to read a masked man; difficult to know exactly what he was thinking when half his face remained hidden from her. He seemed sincere, so she relied on her gut feeling.

"Okay," she swallowed, "So explain. Why do you _think_ I can do magic?"

"It's a long story," Chat paused for a moment, "A very long one. Have you eaten?"

At the question, Marinette's stomach gave an involuntary growl.

The wizard smiled.

"Lets set up camp first," he reached into his cloak, pulling something out that Marinette knew it was impossible for him to have, "This is yours."

He held out a large, worn leather bag to her. She knew it, of course. It was one of her father's favourite possessions, the same bag _his_ father had bought for him to go travelling with. Tom Dupain had gone half way across the world with it, all the way to the East where he had met Marinette's mother.

"How did you -?" she asked dumbly, though she already knew the answer.

"Your father gave it to me," he said, holding it out to her, "He said you might find it useful."

With shaking hands, she accepted the load. In the back of her mind she wondered how in the world Chat had hidden it in his cloak, but her curiosity over what was inside got the better of her. The bag was large, made for her father's bulk and had two straps made for slinging across her back. It was heavy, but not unbearably so and when she looked inside she could see why.

Folded in carefully was her brown travelling cloak, some extra clothes and her sturdiest walking boots. There was her tinderbox, the small cloth bag she kept sewing materials in, a water skin, her journal and a pack of food. She could see there was more packed in, all wrapped carefully for convenience, but she was too shocked to comprehend.

She looked back at Chat.

"I don't understand," she said in a small voice.

"I had to be sure about you," he said carefully, watching her like she was a skittish deer that might bolt if he made a sudden move, "Which meant I had to make some discreet inquiries around the village, but I had to be a little more direct with your parents."

He paused.

"They were pretty understanding actually," he said with a small smile, "Apparently your mother has an uncle back East with some magical talent he puts to use in the kitchen. And your father was excited to have a sorceress in the family."

"Why didn't they say anything to me?" she almost whispered, stung.

"That's my fault," he said firmly, "I persuaded them not to."

"Why?" she demanded, voice growing stronger.

"The less people who knew, the better," Chat said, though he sounded a little weak, "I wanted your reaction to be genuine. No one from your village can know the real reason I took you."

"So you admit to taking me."

"Oh for the love of –" he threw his hands up in exasperation, "I said I'd explain everything."

"No, you said it was a long story," she pointed out, her anger and fear biting at her words, "Better be a good one."

"Ho, ho!" he laughed, "You know, I don't usually get this much snark from village girls."

"And what do you usually get?" she asked blithely.

"Swooning," he said, wriggling his eyebrows, "Flattery. Gushing. The usual hero worship."

Marinette rolled her eyes.

"You're incorrigible," she scoffed.

"And hungry," he grinned, "Now come on, I believe your father packed some croissants in there. I love croissants."

 **~ML~**

"So tell me, what do you understand about wizards?"

Marinette blinked at the sudden question. They had just finished a meal of croissants, cheese and dried fruit, all provided by her parents. Chat had built a fire and provided two sleeping mats from seemingly nowhere, which they were using as seats. She still wondered where he had hidden it all. He hadn't spoken much through their supper.

"What -?"

"Wizards, witches, sorcerers," Chat pressed, "Whatever the label they're using this year is. _People who have magic_. What do you know about them?"

Marinette frowned in thought, trying to bring up everything she had heard over the years, which truth be told wasn't much. The only wizard the village had any standing contact with was Chat Noir. Sure there were stories about magic users in the north, and even of the University in the capital which specialized in the art, but for some reason other wizards tended to stay clear of the Valley.

"They don't age?" An amused smile followed.

"True to an extent," he agreed, "Most just age _very_ slowly."

 _Most_ he said, but not all. Did that mean that it was true? Chat Noir was immortal?

"Um…"Marinette tried to think about what she had heard, "You have to be born with magic to be a wizard. Every decade or so the Recruiters come from the north to test all the children under the age of ten for signs of magic."

She remembered the Recruiters coming to her village when she was nine. They'd asked her funny questions, peered into her eyes and made her pick up a handful of coins, one by one, asking her if she felt anything. In the end she was deemed _normal_ and free to return to her parents.

"They take you away if you have it," she finished bitterly.

"Also true," he said seriously, "Anything else?"

She wracked her brain.

"Um," she said, "The most powerful sit on the High Council. There are three of them, they answer to the king, protect the kingdom, train other wizards…"

She trailed, not sure what else Chat expected from her. Shrugging helplessly, she met his pensive gaze.

"That's…" Chat sighed, "That's a pretty good foundation actually. Finding magic users isn't an exact science though. The Recruiters generally look for signs, questioning the parents, neighbours and so on. It's a very lengthy process, which is why their visits seem so sparse. As for taking children away…well I'm afraid there's not much helping that. It's the law of this land, every child with magical potential has to be taught and if they live close to the Border, that's especially important."

"Signs?"

"Oh, I don't know," he made a gesture as if reaching for something, "Being able to predict the weather, seeing spirits in the churchyard, finding precious metals…the list goes on. Some are more obvious than others, but the important thing to remember is that there are many different _types_ of magic."

"Okay? But I've never been able to do anything like that in my life!" Marinette protested immediately, "And surely the Recruiters would have found out when I was a child if I did."

"Not all wizards can do the same things," he carried on as though she hadn't said anything, "I will never be able to _heal_ , for instance, not with magic anyway. I'm not made for it."

This information surprised her. She hadn't thought someone with magic could have limitations on what they were able to do. But then, she also remembered that Chat had claimed he couldn't purify Akumas and she had always just assumed that meant _no one_ could do it.

 _But what about Nathanael?_

"It makes it hard to find children with enough potential to train," he finished, drawing Marinette from her thoughts, "I think its something like one in every thousand or something. Usually only a handful per generation. Children with very minor abilities are left alone for the most part." A pause.

"There are, however, two types of magic that are near impossible to detect," he said, "You know the saying, don't you?"

" _A child with a seed of creation born,_

 _Will to all good luck spring._

 _But the child with destruction's spawn,_

 _Will only to their family misfortune bring."_

Marinette nodded slowly, recognising the rhyme. It was a saying in the Valley about making your own luck. If you worked hard and made something of yourself, you benefited everyone. But if you were lazy and had no care for others, you only brought shame to those closest to you. At least, that's what the old priest had always said.

"Its quite literal, actually. Creation and destruction are types of magic too," Chat finished, drawing Marinette from her thoughts, "In fact, you might say they are the origin points of _all_ magic. The very founding principles of this world, but if you think normal magic is rare, this kind puts it to shame. I think its something like one in every _million_. Not even a guarantee of one showing up in a generation, never mind _two_."

He fidgeted a little, as though searching for the words to explain.

"The reason they're so hard to find," he said slowly, "Is because the evidence they're there is…subtle."

"I don't understand?" Marinette shook her head.

"I know," he laughed to himself softly, "Its just, you won't without a bit of background."

She stared at him, arms crossed.

"Children born with the magic of creation are rare," he continued, "And the only way to… _spot_ one is by looking at the people around them. At the place where they live…"

"You're still not making any sense," she griped.

"Lucky," he got out finally, "Everyone around them seems to be infused with a dose of good luck, but the child often experiences the opposite."

Something niggled at Marinette, but she couldn't make the connection. The entire day had been so bizarre already and she was tired. So very tired. More than that she was annoyed and a little anxious.

Chat made an exasperated sound.

" _You_ Marinette," he said slowly, "You have creation magic."

Marinette didn't believe him. She crossed her arms and stated as much. Chat threw up his arms, glaring at her irritably.

"The population of your village has exploded in the past two decades, did you know that?" he said, gesturing with his hands to make the point, "Its large enough to be considered a small town now. Merchants and traders travel there specifically, even though its not on any of the common trading routes. Farmers in the area have not had a bad harvest in nearly twenty years and for a village that is situated by far the _closest_ to the Border than any other in the Valley, the number of Akuma attacks have been _sparse_ at best."

He paused, waving a hand at the forest around them.

"And when was the last time you had a problem with something _besides_ an Akuma?" he asked seriously, "I haven't been called to deal with any of the other creatures living in the Border for years. I doubt you've even seen a _matagot_ or a _lutin_ before."

"I –" what could she say? He was right. Marinette had never actually seen either of those creatures, though she had certainly heard about them, "They don't like people."

Chat scoffed.

"No they don't," he agreed, "But that doesn't stop them from popping up in human settlements at least a couple times a year."

"Okay," she shook her head, "So we've been lucky –"

" _Very_ lucky," Chat interrupted, "And this streak of good luck coincides quite nicely with your birth."

Marinette shook her head, unconvinced.

"There were plenty of people born around the same time I was," she argued, "And if anything, I'm bad luck! I'm always tripping or knocking things over. I've almost burned down the bakery more than once and – and just a month ago I caused a huge fiasco in the market place! There were feathers everywhere!"

She carried on listing every accident she had caused, the times she stepped into mud puddles that came up to her ankles or managed to lose something. As she spoke, Chat watched her, his green eyes wide and his shoulders starting to shake with suppressed laughter. She trailed off, annoyed when he finally started chuckling. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips, waiting for him to stop.

"Sorry princess," he guffawed, "But you certainly do know how to get yourself in trouble."

"I told you, I'm unlucky," she insisted, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. _Stupid cat!_

He sobered somewhat, starting to speak.

"Plants seem to thrive around you," he said holding up his fingers as he counted down things he couldn't possibly know, "And you have a knack for making things work. You like making clothes, right?"

She nodded mutely. She couldn't do anything else, too stunned to give a coherent reply. Marinette had always been good with flowers and kept a small garden in the back of the bakery. It was one of the things she didn't wreck just by looking at it. The other was her clothing. She knew her work was good, even better than the local seamstress she apprenticed under. Customers had requested her a lot more lately and the girls who had come to prepare their bridal outfits that morning had come to _her_. Just how much checking up had Chat done on her?

"I bet they're the best in town," he carried on, "They never fray or wear down. I bet anything you fix stays fixed."

She wanted to argue, to deny everything he was saying, but he was right. Her work almost always outlasted the local seamstress'. Marinette had just thought she was getting better.

"But-" she started.

"The bad luck you experience?" he nodded, "It's a side effect because you can't control your magic. You're giving that whole town a very big boost and not keeping any for yourself. Its no wonder you're always so messy."

"Hey!"

"Creation magic is rare, _very_ rare," he carried on, "And it affects a lot of different things. Chance is one of them."

Marinette licked her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. Because it was _unbelievable_. She had never done magic in her life! She would know!

Taking deep breaths, she put aside the ridiculous notion and focused on the other thing that confused her.

"So why didn't you want anyone in the village to know I have magic?" she asked.

Chat gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Its easier that way," he admitted, "I know in the past extracting a lucky charm like you has never ended well when the village knew."

"But then why didn't you just…I don't know, spirit me away in the dead of night or something?" she asked, frowning, "And how in the world did the mayor get it into his head that you wanted a bride if you just asked for me?"

She didn't expect Chat to answer her. He went red though, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I might have let him draw his own conclusions about why I wanted you," he admitted with a shrug, " _But_ I did not encourage that spectacle we saw today with all those girls."

"You – you let him think what he wanted?" Marinette chocked out, a sick realisation creeping up on her.

He nodded.

"You should have just told everyone the truth!" she snapped angrily, "I don't understand why it's a big deal?"

Chat shook his head in disagreement.

"Look, this is what happens when someone like you is found. We have the signs," he explained, "That someone with creation magic resides in that village. What do we do? Tell the truth and hope the villagers let us take the child who is bringing them good fortune? I can tell you from history that it's never ended well before. I'm sorry I made it seem like something less than respectable was going on, but its better they don't know. Villages have turned on each other for less."

Marinette bit her lips to keep from retorting and crossed her arms. She knew he was right though. Who would want to let go of someone who was bringing you good luck?

 _If what he said was the truth._

"Its safer if no one knows the kinds of powers you have," Chat's eyes flickered around them, "Not only because of the Border. There are a lot of people who would pay a kingdom's worth of gold for a magic user gifted in good luck. Until you can handle your powers, you're vulnerable."

"And what do you get out of this?" she asked, "Why not just turn me over to the Recruiters?"

"Two reasons," he said carefully, "First because I trust the Recruiters about as far as I can throw them. The second is because…well because I am a destruction mage."

"So you're…?"

"The very opposite of you?" he nodded.

"Why does that matter?" she asked.

"The law of the land," Chat drawled in answer, "All potential magic users must be trained, especially those that live so close to the Border."

"What do you mean?"

"Its simple princess," the black cat said, "Imagine if the Akuma got hold of _you_. With the potential you have, who knows how far out it'll stretch its will. I certainly wouldn't be able to do much against you."

This baffled Marinette more than anything else. She still wasn't convinced he was telling her the truth about having…magic, but if he were, surely she wouldn't be a problem for him. He was _Chat Noir_ after all.

"Creation and destruction might be opposites," he continued, "But they are also the closest in nature to one another. Two halves of the same whole, as it were. Which means, princess, that as the other one in a million, I am the only person qualified to teach you."

He was quiet for a moment, considering her.

"As for what I get out of it," he said slowly, "I was hoping for your help."

"My help?" she chocked out, staring at him like he had grown a second head. Chat, to his credit, took everything in stride. He squared his gaze at her and spoke calmly, clearly aware of the effect his words made.

"Your friend, the Akuma who could create things out of thin air –"

"Nathanael," Marinette interrupted him.

"Right," he nodded in acknowledgement, "I'm sure you noticed that he's the first person in a very long time to come out of being Akumatized in one piece."

"You purified him," she said slowly.

Chat shook his head.

"I can't do that," he said, "I told you, some types of magic have limitations. Purification is a type of healing and I _cannot do it_. Not with destruction magic."

"But then how -?" her eyes went wide as she realised what he was implying, "No!"

"It was all you princess," he confirmed with a smirk, "That's what woke up your powers, as it were. _You_ purified the Akuma."

"No – no I –" she shook her head, "You have the wrong girl."

He laughed at her denial.

"Not too many stubborn village girls out there that night," he said, amused.

"Chloe was there!" Marinette cried, grappling at an impossible explanation. As soon as the blonde's name left her mouth, her cheeks heated with embarrassment, knowing she was grasping at straws.

"I'm afraid the Mayor's daughter was unconscious through most of the fight," Chat answered, still looking far too amused for his own good, "Good thing too, wouldn't want her blabbing about you to the village."

"There has to be another explanation!" she snapped, tired of the games, "Because I'm not – I mean I can't – I can't just travel around purifying Akuma! The only reason Nathanael didn't _kill me_ immediately was because he had a soft spot for me! I won't be that lucky again!"

"I'll protect you –"

"What if you can't?" she shouted, "No! No you have the wrong person! Even if I did purify the Akuma, I don't know how I did it! I don't know if I could even do it again!"

And that was the truth. Marinette wasn't like Chat. She'd only end up getting herself killed.

"We'll figure it out," Chat began to reassure her.

"Figure it out?" she repeated, "You're talking about risking my life!"

"Only because it's important!" he snapped, standing up. Marinette blinked up at him. If he was a real cat, she was sure his hair would be standing on end. As it was, his tail was twitching with agitation and his ears had laid down flat on his head. The pupils of his glowing green eyes were narrow slits and a dark, bubbling energy seemed to be oozing out if him. The _feu follet_ scattered, dimming their lights. The fire gave an audible crack, jolting Marinette from her stupor. She realised she had shrunk away from him and forced herself to sit straight, staring up at him in defiance.

It took a long second, but Chat finally shook his head, breaking the strange spell and slumping back down in front of the fire. The energy dissipated as he ran his hands shakily through his hair.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Marinette didn't say anything. It was just a terrible reminder of the position she was in. For all that she trusted Chat wouldn't hurt her, he was still a dangerous man and she was just a baker's daughter.

His gaze met hers once more, wide and vulnerable this time. Marinette was struck not for the first time how an ageless wizard could still appear to be so young.

"Marinette," he pleaded, startling her, "I've been trying to hold this whole thing together, but I'm failing. I _need_ help."

She frowned, confused.

"You've been doing it for centuries!"

"Yeah well, it gets old quickly!" he snapped, looking away as he said in a much softer voice, "And old Chat Noir used to have help doing this."

Mylene's words from earlier that day sprung to mind. _Ladybug_. He used to have Ladybug.

"Surely there are…other magic users who could help?" she asked, "More experienced ones."

"A bunch of University educated simpletons with no _practical_ experience," Chat snorted, "And no ties to the Valley or its people. And don't get me started on the High Council, they only ever appear when it suits them, usually when something threatens their position at court."

The distaste in his tone surprised Marinette. It was true, the High Council's presence in the Valley was a murmur at best, but then, the Capital hardly paid attention to them anyway. She was curious about what experience Chat had with them. However, she curbed her questions, aware of the agitation still present in Chat's demeanour. Clearly this was a touchy subject.

"What makes you think I'd be any better?" she asked instead.

He smiled at her this time, the first genuine smile Marinette had seen on him that night. Despite the mask, it opened his expression wholly, letting her see a flare of admiration and fondness directed at her. This…shocked her. Was she reading him right?

"Like you said that night, you have a right to defend your home," she blushed under his gaze, "You ran towards when most people were running away. You fought when you knew you were out of your league. Not many people have that courage…or stubbornness. I believe in you, Marinette."

He cocked his head to the side as he studied her.

"But you don't believe me," he sighed sadly, "And you doubt your worth. I don't think you _really_ believe me about the magic either, do you?"

Marinette remained silent, unable to deny his words.

He gave out a bitter sort of chuckle.

"That self-doubt will hold you back," he said in a warning tone, "If you want to be a sorceress, you have to have faith in yourself and in your magic."

"I don't want that," she insisted, stomach dropping slightly.

Chat sighed again, nodding his head.

"Lets get some sleep," he said after a long pause, "This has been a lot of information for you. Things usually look brighter in the morning."

Marinette looked around the clearing nervously.

"But-"

His expression softened.

"Nothing will happen to you as long as you stay in this clearing," he said reassuringly, "I promise."

 **~ML~**

Marinette couldn't sleep.

Thoughts were her enemy that night, rushing through her mind like the ever turning of a windmill. Repeating over, trying to find and analyse the information she'd been given that night. Her head was aching slightly and she found herself staring absently into the darkened canopy above her. The _feu follet_ were still there, but many had retreated into the forest, leaving only a faint light in the clearing.

She glanced to her side. Over the dim glow of the fire pit she could just make out Chat's outline where he lay. He had drawn up his shadowed cloak around him and it did its job at hiding him in the darkness. The pale curve of his cheek was visible, as were a few locks of his wild, golden hair. She sat up, still staring over at him, wondering if he was really asleep.

A long, exhausted snore answered her a few minutes later and she resisted the sudden urge to laugh. It was such a human sound. She got to her feet, carefully creeping around to get a better look at his face. His eyes were closed, identity buried beneath the mask he wore. She wondered what he looked like without it. Was he as handsome as he seemed? Or did he wear the mask to hide something he didn't want others to see?

Shaking her head as a familiar prickle of warmth shot to her cheeks, Marinette looked away, biting her lower lip. It wasn't that she thought Chat was lying to her about the…about the _magic_. It was more that she was positive he was making a mistake. She looked down at her hands, trying to remember if she felt anything when she touched the butterfly. She tried to recall, but all she could remember was white light, strange dreams and the fever. It didn't sound like any magic she had ever heard of before.

And her parents had clearly believed him.

She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Truth was, she wasn't sure she knew what to feel about anything. It felt like the world was still spinning and she couldn't get her sight fixed on a point to steady herself.

Chat shifted in his sleep, frowning slightly and murmuring something. His mouth twisted and he gave a soft moan. Startled by the sudden change, Marinette froze, watching him as he continued to mutter incoherent words. Curious despite herself, she leaned in a little closer to hear him.

"… _no…don't go…"_ slipped from his lips, as did a name, "… _Felix_."

He shuddered in his sleep, thrashing around. Instinctively, Marinette's hand reached out to stroke his hair and she hummed softly, trying to soothe him. She'd done this for Manon many times in the past, chasing away night terrors the way her mother had done for her.

She carried on her ministrations until he stopped thrashing, easing back into his slumber. He leaned into her touch for a moment, letting out a brief noise that Marinette almost thought sounded like a purr. She withdrew her hand when he settled, smiling slightly as she shook her head. So even wizards responded to simple comforts.

Marinette was about to return to her sleeping matt when something caught her attention. A soft sound that prickled on the edge of her hearing made her turn her head. It was like the quietest murmur of a melody and she followed the sound before she realised her feet were moving. She walked to the edge of the clearing, looking out into the dark trees. Her foot kicking a large, moss covered stone drew her attention from the sound.

It didn't last long. The song was drawing her before she could think of the danger. It felt like a nagging tug in her mind, compelling her to follow. There was no awareness of anything else, just the sweet sound and the urge to follow it. She stepped over the stone, hardly noticing as the air around her chilled.

 _Nothing will happen to you as long as you stay in this clearing._

Marinette disappeared into the trees.

 _I promise._

 **~ML~**

 _A/N: Probably the most dialogue heavy chapter of this story and pretty much just a long conversation. Apologies for the delay, Christmas and all that entails. Okay, groundwork laid, time for the fun part. Happy reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Two Tails**

It was a full moon.

Marinette briefly noticed this as she glanced up through the canopy of the trees. The bright beams dappled the ground in silver light, dancing every time a breeze picked up the leaves. The sweet melody grew louder with each step she took, drawing her feet forward. She stumbled once or twice in the dark, her shoes skimming an outgrowing roots or jutting rock, but she carried on, hypnotized by the sound. Her mind felt hazy, all thoughts but the need to follow being replaced by the song.

Vaguely she was aware that the sound of flowing water was growing louder and trees were starting to thin. She stepped out to a sky bright with moonlight and standing near the edge of a wide river, the same that ran through her home village and disappeared into the Border. It ran through the trees, creeping along like a silvery snake in the night. The song was loud now, a wordless calling and Marinette could see who was making it.

Sitting on a rock near the water's edge with her back to Marinette was a woman. She was completely naked, the moonlight making her skin glow as she ran a hand through long, blonde tresses that looked like they reflected starlight. Her legs were in the water and she was singing as she bathed. Marinette couldn't stop herself from moving, drawing closer to the strange woman.

She must have noticed Marinette's presence, because she stopped singing and turned her head. A narrow, elfish face snapped towards her, body turning as she did.

Marinette bit back a gasp.

The strange, fey woman had no legs. Instead, twin snake tails slithered into view, sliding from the water with deadly grace. The narrow face went from surprised to angry in the space of a breath and very suddenly, Marinette's world tilted.

The woman let out a snarl as she lunged forward, grabbing Marinette's hand before she had a chance to react. She yanked her towards the water, grip like a vice as her hands travelled up to Marinette's throat. The snake tails wrapped around the dark haired girl's body and before Marinette could scream, they fell into the river.

Everything was black.

Marinette struggled helplessly against her captor, fighting to get back to the surface. She couldn't see anything, not even the moon shining through the water. Blood thundered in her ears and her lungs ached with the need to breath. The cold scaly limbs twisted around her body, dragging her deeper into the water the more she thrashed to break free.

 _I'm going to die_ , she realized.

There was no hope; no way she could see to get out. Chat Noir didn't know where she was and she had no way of making a sound to call him to her. She was trapped under the water, being pulled down and down into darkness. She felt like she was going to burst with the need to breathe and dizziness settled over her.

 _This was it._ She was never going to see her parents again. She was never going home. Whoever she was going to be, whatever life she was going to live, it was all gone. She could feel her whole body starting sag as she lost the strength to fight as her consciousness started to fade. As regret swelled within her, she knew she was only moments away from trying to take a breath and swallowing an unforgiving wave of water instead.

 _I don't want to die! Help me!_

In her minds eye, a flash of red flared, a blurred figure in a storm and a voice thundered in her head.

 _Fight Marinette! Fight!_

Her chest felt hot.

No, it felt like her lungs were _burning_.

 _Fight!_ The voice commanded again.

The urge to obey was strong. Marinette reached out, though she didn't know what she was grasping for. She found it waiting for her, like a bright, shining star was erupting deep inside her, Marinette held onto it and didn't let go.

Instead of the dark, coolness of death, her whole body felt like it had caught fire. The heat intensified and she could feel her limbs bursting with pain as it spread through her whole body. White light filled her blurring vision.

Suddenly the limbs pulling her down and the hands at her throat let go, thrashing to get away from her as quickly as possible. Marinette thought she could hear a piercing scream penetrate through the water surrounding her, it sounded distant and in pain.

She was free, but the fire still raged inside her, paralyzing her body as it sent shocking pain through her. She had to swim, she had to get to the surface and _breathe_ again. She tried to move. She tried…

Something strong and cool caught her around the waist, dragging her back up. As her head broke the surface, she chocked down the air, gasping and coughing.

"I've got you," a familiar voice panted, "You're okay."

"Chat?" she wheezed. He was holding her by her waist with her back pressed against the front of his body. Her body was still so hot and he felt so deliciously cool against her, even more so than the water surrounding them.

"I can't…move," she tried to say everything she was feeling, but all she wanted was for Chat to press closer to her and ease the flames in her body.

"I know," he growled, tugging her along with him, "Hold on Marinette."

He swam her back to shore, lifting her limp form up and carrying her to a safe distance from the water. She was breathing hard now, harder than she should have been. It felt like the fever had returned with a vengeance. Her whole body trembled like she was cold, but she felt hot. _So hot._

He sat her down, helping her lean against a tree to keep upright. Marinette blinked up at him shakily. A white light illuminated his face, showing his blonde hair plastered to his scalp by the water and an intense look in his glowing green eyes.

 _Was there a feu follet around?_

Marinette looked around them, trying to find the source of the light. Her gaze trailed down at herself and she let out a scream.

Her hands were _pulsing_ with the white glow, the light running up her veins and illuminating from under her skin.

"Give me your hands," Chat said quickly.

"What's happening to me?" she cried, barely hearing him.

" _Marinette!_ " he barked, drawing her attention, "Give me your hands!"

Shaking, the heat still raging though her fingertips, she presented her hands to him palm up. He had taken off his clawed gloves, exposing a large pair of pale hands. Marinette watched in wonder as he carefully laid his palms over hers. His skin was cool, soothing her. She gasped, half expecting steam to rise off their skin. Instead, the white light dimmed and she felt the energy release out of her.

Her whole body sagged with relief. The heat left her and she was left feeling exhausted. Chat let go of her and slipped his gloves back on, running a hand though his wet hair. His cat ears were twitching in an agitated way as he looked down at her, green eyes alight with fury.

"Of all the _stupid_ –" he cut off with a snarl, taking her by the arms and dragging her to her feet. He gave her a once over to see if she was injured, his hands settling on her shoulders as he forced her to look up at him.

"Idiot!" Chat hissed, claws biting into her shoulders as her gripped her, "I told you not to leave the clearing! This is still the Border! What were you -?"

He cut off, but Marinette hardly noticed. Tears swam in her eyes and she didn't even feel the pain of his grip on her.

"I'm sorry," she chocked out, trying to will away the fear that still lingered, "I'm so sorry."

She gave an involuntary sob, her whole body shaking, but whether from the cold or the fear, she couldn't tell. Chat sighed, released her. He picked up his cloak and draped it over her shoulders, securing it around her tightly. He ran a hand over her wet hair and, in an action wholly unexpected, directed her face into his shoulder as he hugged her against his warm body.

"Its okay," he murmured gently, "I know it's been a scary day. I'm sorry too."

It was all the permission Marinette needed to hug him back, bawling into his chest as she let all the pain, fear, and uncertainty wash itself away. He hummed in her ear, a soothing sound with no real tune and stroked his clawed gloves through her hair.

In the back of her mind, Marinette found this action ironic, as it was the same she had done not so long ago to soothe away his bad dream. Now she was grateful for it. She wasn't yet sure what had scared her more, almost drowning, or the fire that had coursed through her.

 _Was that…me?_

"Yes," Chat said gently, startling her, "That was your magic."

She hadn't realized she had spoke aloud.

"How…?" she croaked into his chest.

He still heard her.

"Defense mechanism," he explained, "You reacted on instinct, but your control needs some work."

He was trying to be funny. Marinette resisted the sudden urge to roll her eyes, drawing back from his embrace. He let go easily, watching her with concern.

"Chat," she groaned, "Don't tease me."

"Right," he shot her a weak smile, "Sorry about that."

Marinette shook her head, feeling better.

"No," she offered up a faint smile of her own, "Thank you, Chat. You saved me."

Eyes widened with surprised. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sound behind them drew their attention. There was a splash and a thump. The strange woman was there, waist deep in the water, her hair hanging lank over each shoulder, hiding her bare chest from view. Still, the sight made Marinette uncomfortable. She focused on the face instead, able to get a better look at it now. It was a beautiful face; in a cold, otherworldly sort of way, but what struck her first were the eyes. Colourless in the moonlight, they were focused right on Marinette.

She shuddered.

Chat stepped in front of her, providing a human shield between the two women. For a long time, no one spoke. All three remained so still, it felt like a breath would be too loud. Marinette didn't dare move, her own wide pair of blue eyes strained to the strange creature that had tried to kill her only moments before. There were marks on the woman's arms, burn marks in the shape of hands.

Marinette whimpered at the sight, guilt and revulsion filling her.

She had done that.

Chat's tail moved with a mind of its own, swishing from side to side like a cat stalking its prey.

"I did not know," a voice, as musical as her singing, said softly.

Chat's eyes narrowed.

"And now you do," he said in return.

She didn't respond. There was a flash of movement and she disappeared beneath the shimmering surface of the river. Marinette let out the breath she had been holding, feeling like her legs were going to give way beneath her again. She felt exhausted and shaky.

"What was she?" she asked, voice wobbly.

"You might have heard of her," Chat said slowly as he turned around, "Her name is Melusine."

Marinette frowned, recognizing the name. There was an old wives' tale about a water fairy that lived in the forests of the Kingdom. Beautiful and fair, save for the one day every week she had to spend in a different form.

Like one with two snake tails instead of legs.

"Like the fairy?" she protested with a shudder, "But that's just a story!"

"I think she'd prefer fae," Chat said lightly, "And she's only half, her father was mortal."

"Yes," Marinette said, remembering, "She – she imprisoned her father in a mountain and her mother cursed her for it."

Chat nodded.

"That's about the gist of it," he acknowledged.

"But she's a story!" Marinette insisted, as though it would make it true.

"Every story has a grain of truth to it," Chat said with a shrug, "Especially in the Border."

 **~ML~**

Chat escorted Marinette back to their camp in silence. The late summer night had turned cool, sending shivers through the drenched girl. He stoked the fire, adding more wood to get a merry blaze going and turned his back so she could change into a spare set of clothes. Marinette had lost one of her shoes in the river. She sighed in regret for the item and went to hang her damp green dress over a low laying tree branch to dry. The sprig of lavender wrapped in a kerchief had survived the experience. She kept this with her, Adrien's words ' _lavender for luck_ ' echoing in her head. The pins in her hair had come undone, so she left it loose to dry by the fire.

"We'll get you warm and dry," Chat was saying conversationally, back still to her, "Then you should try get some sleep –"

"No," she said quickly, "No, we have to talk."

He stopped what he was doing.

"Marinette," he started.

"I can't sleep!" she insisted, "Not now! Not like this! Not after…"

She trailed, not sure what to say. She found herself staring at her hands, as though afraid they would erupt into the strange white light again.

"I need to understand," she finished.

He shook out his cloak before turning toward her, head tilted and lips pressed together as he regarded her thoughtfully.

"You cut your hair," he said bluntly, surprising her, "I didn't notice before."

Marinette fingered her damp locks self-consciously. He was trying to distract her that much was obvious. Her hands were still shaking. She had thought it was from the cold, but her body was warm now. She clenched her fists to stop the tremor.

"I felt like a change," she said with a shrug, eyeing him seriously, "Are we going to talk?"

Chat took his time folding his shadow cloak and laying it on his sleeping matt. He sat down on it, cross-legged, using a stick to stoke the fire between them. Marinette followed the trail of embers dancing up into the night air. The _feu follet_ had returned, bright and silent as they floated across the forest clearing. A hazy memory trickled at the edge of Marinette's vision, but she could quite recall.

"Alright," he gave a tired sigh, "Where do you want to start?"

"The light," she sat down on her own sleeping matt, folding her arms together and almost hugging herself, "You said it was…that it was…"

"Your magic," Chat finished for her.

She nodded, not sure why she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Why was it…like that?"

Chat's eyes were on the fire.

"It was a very physical manifestation," he said slowly, "My guess is you realized you were dying, so you struck out as hard as you could. Like you had nothing to lose. It was an uncontrolled, wild burst of your power."

 _Dying_. Marinette shuddered at the reminder of the darkness surrounding her.

"How did you make it stop?" she whispered.

"I told you earlier," he said quietly, "We're opposites. Best case scenario, I can balance you out when you lose control."

"Oh," she realized for the first time why Chat had said he was the most qualified to teach her. It was exactly because of what had happened earlier. If that happened again, he could control it. He could control _her_.

She shivered, drawing in on herself more.

"What happens now?" she croaked out, not quite able to meet Chat's bright green gaze. Instead, she stared at the flickering fire.

"What do you want to happen?" Chat asked cautiously.

"I want to go home," Marinette said with no hesitation, finally looking up at him, "But that's not an option, is it?"

"No," he said seriously, "Even if I return you, one of two things will happen. Worst case, an Akuma will take you and you won't be able to defend yourself. Or when the Recruiters come back this way, they'll have a much easier time sensing your power now that you've…popped the cork as it were. Then you'll be taken to the Capital and this will all begin again."

"I just wanted to be a seamstress," she muttered, feeling like she was about to cry.

Chat, of course, heard her.

"You still can," he gave her a reassuring smile, "Some of the best artisans in the Kingdom use magic, but you do have to learn to control it first."

This didn't make Marinette feel any better, so she decided not to think about it.

"My mother said something about a year and a day?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Standard wizarding contract," he joked lightly.

"A year and a day," she repeated absently, "Just like some old story."

"There's more truth to it than you think," Chat explained, "Before the Recruiters and the University, wizards would contract an apprentice. There would be a probationary period of a year and a day, this allowed the wizard to help the apprentice control their magic to a safe degree and the apprentice the chance to decide whether or not they wished to continue their studies."

"Why did that change?"

Chat Noir adjusted his position, leaning back on one of his hands and stretching his body out.

"The king at the time was worried about bad influences," he shrugged, "He liked to have all his magic users in one place, hence the creation of the University."

Marinette filed that information away to ponder over later, for right now though, she had other concerns.

"And I'll only be with you for that long?" she asked.

"If that's what you want," he nodded, "If you agree."

"And you'll help me control this?" she bit her lips, squeezing her hands together tightly.

"Yes," he swore, "Do you agree to be my apprentice then?"

She nodded.

"You have to say it," he said seriously.

Marinette frowned.

"Why?"

"That's just how it works," he shrugged.

Swallowing back a sudden lump in her throat, Marinette opened her mouth to speak.

"I agree to be your apprentice," she said awkwardly.

Nothing happened. There was no puff of smoke or spark of light, but Marinette felt suddenly calmer. It was a difficult feeling to describe, but it was almost like all her life she had been teetering over an edge, ready to fall and now there were arms holding her up and keeping her secure. Chat seemed to relax too, the tenseness in his body fading away as if it had never been.

"And I promise to protect and teach you to the best of my abilities," he said lightly.

And that was it.

She opened up a little bit, releasing the tension she had been feeling as she uncurled her body to sit in an easier position. There was something else niggling at her, something she only just remembered.

"But…what happens to the village?" she asked worriedly.

"The scales of fortune rebalance," Chat shifted to get more comfortable, "They will experience as much good or bad luck as fate gives them."

"But, if I was giving them good luck, shouldn't I stay?"

"Marinette," his expression was serious, "Its too late now. Your magic has already started changing, it won't work the way it did anymore."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"The fever you had," he said gently, "That was caused by the sudden release of _your_ magic, not mine. Not everyone survives the experience, but you came out of it pretty quickly. Unconsciously, you took control of the power inside you. You had to or it would have killed you. When you did, it stopped leaking out."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning you can direct it now, or," he corrected himself, "You will be able to with a bit of training."

"But…"

"There were three minor accidents yesterday during the reconstruction," Chat continued, "A broken wrist and some bruises mostly. A farmer lost his entire chicken coop to a fox. The miller's old nag, who had been going well past her time, suddenly dropped dead in the middle of work. One of the grain carts cracked its wheel and half the goods it was carrying fell in the mud."

He gave Marinette a hard look.

"The scales are already trying to sort themselves out," he shrugged, "Yes, the village might experience more bad luck for a while, but it will rebalance itself. That will happen regardless of whether you're there or not."

Her shoulders slumped down as she acknowledged what Chat said was true. It was still a difficult thing to believe, but he had been right about everything else, what cause had she to doubt him about this?

Still, Marinette shook her head in disbelief.

"I still can't believe I somehow manage to bring people good luck while causing myself nothing but ill," she sighed, "This was definitely not what I imagined being the reason I was bad luck."

This comment drew Chat's attention. He cocked his head to the side, studying her in a considering way.

" _Reason?_ Why did you think you were bad luck?" he asked curiously.

Marinette felt her cheeks redden.

"Because of you," she admitted and watched in mortification when he gaped at her.

"Me?" he squawked, "Why would you think that?"

 _Surely he must know. How many village girls are crazy enough to just wander into the Border?_

"Because I crossed the Border!" she cried, "You don't remember?"

Chat stared at her, clearly perplexed. His catlike eyes staring into her like she was a puzzle.

"We've…" he started again, "… _met before_?"

She nodded, a little stung he didn't remember.

"I was a little girl," she explained, "I got lost in the Border for days, you rescued me."

His eyes were wide.

"You really don't remember?" she hedged after a long moment of silence.

Chat Noir seemed to catch himself, straightening his back and locking a lazy, sheepish grin to his face.

"Sorry princess," he chuckled, "I save a lot of little girls out of trees. I'm a bit sad I don't though, you must have been a real cutie."

His bad flirting actually helped Marinette ground herself. Her entire world had been slipping sideways at his declaration. She clung to the annoyance she felt instead.

"Everyone said you cursed me with bad luck after that," she said.

"Did your bad luck start after being in the Border?" he asked curiously.

She nodded.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again.

"Do you…remember anything from the last time you were in the Border?" he pressed carefully.

Marinette almost answered 'no,' but at that moment one of the _feu follet_ glided passed her nose, distracting her with its pinkish light. A memory came unbidden.

"Dancing," she said finally, "I remember dancing."

The world grew hazy and dream like. She could see herself in the clearing, a little girl dancing happily amongst the lights, butterflies of every shape and colour swirling around the clearing. Someone in a dark cloak watched her, clapping along to a silent beat. She smiled softly, feeling a warm, drunken feeling starting to creep its way over her mind

Chat Noir's voice drew her out of the dream.

"Careful," he said lowly, brushing the _feu follet_ away, "That's how they catch you."

"Huh?" she blinked, shaken from the haze. The scene faded as if it had never been, leaving her coldly sober.

"They show you your memories, or sometimes your dreams," he explained, eyes narrowing as one tried to wander too close, he waved a hand to shoo it, "If you're not careful, you'll get trapped by them."

He looked conflicted for a long moment.

"Marinette," he said finally, "Did you wander into the Border before or after the Recruiters tested you? Do you remember?"

Marinette frowned, thinking.

"Before," she said finally.

"Are you sure?

She nodded.

"Yes," she cocked her head to the side curiously, "Why does it matter?"

Chat opened his mouth, and then seemed to think better of what he was going to say.

"Just disappointed I didn't recognize such a little power house," he purred, smirking at Marinette, "But the Recruiters didn't catch it either, so that soothes my pride a little."

"You really don't like them," Marinette observed, rolling her eyes slightly.

"They didn't like me first," he protested childishly, "Little upstarts, the lot of them."

Marinette burst into laughter. Oh, how it felt so good to laugh again. It amazed her how quickly Chat could make her feel secure again. She noticed Chat grinning back, looking perfectly pleased with himself.

"Is that dawn coming early," he said gallantly, "Or just your smile?"

Caught of guard by the comment, Marinette broke off her laughter.

"Chat!" she whined, blushing.

He held his hands up in mock offense.

"Just being honest!" he protested, glowing eyes still fixed to her, "You told me not to lie."

Honest or not, Chat Noir was a world-class flirt, of that Marinette was sure.

He stretched his arms out and started digging for something in his pocket. He suggested she try get some sleep as he did, but Marinette shook her head vehemently, far too anxious to lay her head down.

"I meant it about the clearing being safe," he tried to reason with her, "It was warded against anything with ill intention."

Marinette bit her lip, still unsure.

He offered up an amused, sympathetic look.

"Alright," he said, "I have an idea. This will make you sleepy, guaranteed."

"Guaranteed?" she raised an eyebrow.

He clucked his tongue with a nod.

"Your first lesson starts tonight," he announced throwing something to Marinette. She caught it automatically, vaguely surprised that she hadn't immediately dropped it and looked down at her hands. Nestled there was a small, brown acorn. She looked up at the wizard quizzically.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked, "Make a tree grow?"

He laughed at that, shaking his head.

"No," he said pointing at the acorn, "Well not _yet_ anyway. I'm going to teach you the most important tool any wizard has and _that's_ going to help you focus."

She stared at him expectantly. Around them, the flickering lights of the _feu follet_ danced, making the entire clearing glow hazily.

"I'm going to teach you how to breathe."

 **~ML~**

The next few days followed a similar routine. By day, Chat and Marinette travelled by foot across the wide plains of the Valley. They avoided most of the towns and villages, camping out in the late summer nights under a sky of dazzling stars. Chat would conduct his lessons around a merry campfire, his voice commanding, but oddly gentle as he instructed Marinette.

She still held the acorn in her hands for every lesson, using it as a focus point. She held it in her hand, imagined it in her head and pictured herself flooding the small seed with energy. She pictured the energy coursing through her body, imagined it ebbing in and out with her breath. She listened to Chat's voice and slowly learned to listen to her body.

Meditation, Chat had told her, was about self-awareness. It was the beginning of learning to control the power inside her. Her heartbeat, her breathing and the seed in her hand became her whole world during these sessions. Slowly, she started to see it. That bright star of power that resided inside her. Afterwards she felt drained and would collapse into slumber without much preamble. Chat was always watching over her.

Sometimes, she thought she could hear the strange voice that had urged her to fight in the river. It brushed at the edge of her consciousness, but she never heard it as clearly as she had before. By the time she woke up, she forgot about it.

As they travelled, Chat lectured Marinette on a variety of subjects related to magic. He introduced her to alchemy, physik, some runic warding and whatever sparse knowledge he could impart about herbalism. These would form the basis of her apprenticeship, he told her, when they had time to settle and work out a proper schedule for her. That would only happen when they reached Chat's home, The Tower, which was still several days' walk away.

Marinette had tried on several occasions to hedge in questions about the mysterious Tower. It had formed the basis of many a fireside tale through her childhood. They said it was all the remained of a great castle fortress from which an ancient line of kings had ruled long ago before there was a Border or even a Valley. Though much of it remained in ruins, the Tower used by Chat Noir still stood and contained a hundred thousand secrets.

"A hundred thousand secrets?" Chat whistled lowly when she mentioned this, "That is a lot!"

"Is it true?" Marinette asked curiously.

He looked far too amused.

"I suppose you'll find out," he teased.

Chat could be infuriatingly evasive. He walked with a relaxed swagger, sometimes pausing to pick up a flower or a stone that interested him and examine it. His capricious nature reminded Marinette strongly of a cat as he sauntered through the countryside. They didn't always stick to the roads, sometimes ducking through patches of woodland and forest or cutting across farmer's fields. Marinette could see not clear path to their destination. It seemed, for the most part, that Chat was leading her along according to his whims.

She wondered out loud why he didn't just transport them there with his magic.

"Lazy!" Chat scolded mockingly, "Walking is good for you, don't you know."

She shot him an unimpressed look, which made him relent.

"It takes a lot of energy," he said, glancing down at his ring, "By myself, I can transport two people a few miles at most."

"So back in the village, you were just showing off," Marinette crossed her arms, unimpressed.

He laughed sheepishly.

"Caught me," he acknowledged, "In my defense, they were expecting something grand and who am I to disappoint?"

"Who indeed?" she deadpanned.

Her lessons the first few days were fine. They weren't easy by any means, but once Marinette understood what was expected of her, the mediation became easier. In fact, after the first few times, she came out of the practice feeling refreshed instead of exhausted. Once she told Chat this, it all changed.

" _Witch light_?" she repeated one evening after dinner.

"A very basic spell," he assured her, "Even people with a trickle of magic can make one."

He demonstrates this by holding out his gloved hand to her. After a pause, a small globe of pale green light appeared just above his palm. It was brighter and more defined than the _feu follet_ , dancing in the air above his hand like a flame on a candlewick.

Marinette gaped.

"Its pretty easy," he said, closing his fist and vanishing the light, "Now, close your eyes."

He took the acorn away from her and told her to push the energy in her body to the palm of her hand and imagine a light forming there. Envisioning how the spell should work was important he insisted at her incredulous look, a large part of magic was about intention.

So Marinette breathed in and out, just as she had practiced the past few nights. She became aware of her body, of the energy in her limbs and around her. She could see the bright star inside her and worked to funnel some of the energy out. She missed the acorn, but tried to picture a light like Chat's dancing above her palm. She felt the energy start to gather in her hand. Her skin prickled at the feeling, but there wasn't enough there to feed the light. Frowning, she took in another breath and concentrated on funneling more energy into her hand, hoping the small witch light would appear.

Instead, her hands started to _burn_.

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped. The pulsing white light had returned, shining through her veins and skin. Chat's hands were over hers in a second, even as she cried out in pain. The coolness he brought with him was a relief. She often marveled at that. Tears streaked down her face and she leaned forward, her head brushing against Chat's chest as she tried to control her fear.

"Hush," he murmured, "Its okay. You just pushed too much. Its okay."

"I – I didn't m-mean to," Marinette found herself gasping out.

As the heat and the light faded, Chat's hands stroked through her hair gently and he pulled her back into an upright position.

"Marinette, its okay," he assured her, "You're doing just fine."

Marinette looked into those glowing eyes and shook her head miserably. Chat managed to coax her into trying again after she had calmed down. This time, she was reluctant to gather the energy as she did before and nothing happened.

Chat made her try repeatedly. Sometimes the white light burst out again, searing her hand and others she didn't even manage to create a spark of light. There was no happy medium. Either Marinette pushed too much, or not enough.

Eventually, Chat let her sleep. The next night they tried again, then on the next and so on. Marinette began to dread the setting sun and ensuing lesson.

She wasn't getting this. She couldn't do it, not without that horrible, burning light creeping up her arms. Discouraged, Marinette hardly reacted to Chat's flirtations as she became consumed with thoughts of her failure. She couldn't go home if she didn't learn to control this. She couldn't be around regular people, not without Chat being there as a safety net.

These realizations only served to stress her more, preventing her from finding the peaceful place needed for meditation and making her lose her focus.

One night, as she dejectedly rolled out her sleeping mat and Chat appeared with an armful of firewood, she wondered if she would ever get any better. The wizard seemed to read her expression, for he sighed as he laid down his burden.

"You are getting better Marinette," he said with a gentle look, "You have to remember that you are still very new at this."

She nodded dejectedly, concentrating on her sleeping mat.

"Marinette?"

She shrugged, forcing a smile onto her face.

"I know," she offered up quietly.

His ears drooped a bit at her expression. Suddenly though, they shot up again and he turned his head as though to listen, a huge grin blooming over his face.

"Pack up everything!" he said hurriedly, "We're not staying here tonight, and no lesson either."

"Huh?" Marinette blinked, surprised.

"Come on, quickly now!"

She did as she was told, gathering up her belongings and slinging her pack over her shoulders, confused. The sun was low in the sky now, casting a painting of pink, orange and blue all around them. They were in a hilly area, surrounded by tall grasses and huge stone mounds. Chat grabbed her by the hand, leading her quickly towards one of the hills. She half ran behind him, her shorter legs not quite able to catch up.

"What is it?" she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Don't you hear it?" he asked breathlessly.

She opened her mouth, about to ask what he meant, when the sound reached her ears. Carried on the night air was the rhythmic beat of drums, accompanied by what might have been a fiddle or some other string instrument. The music had a joyful feel to it and it took a few more steps towards the sound before Marinette recognized the tune. It was a jig, the kind played during dances. She didn't think there was anyone all the way out here to play it though.

"What is that?" she asked, panting slightly as Chat pulled her along.

"You need a break!" he said instead, grinning madly, "You're too tense, that's why it's not working! This should do the trick!"

Still confused, Marinette could only follow.

 _A/N: Fun fact: you can find Melusine on your Starbucks cup! This story will probably be a few more chapters than I originally planned. Too many ideas and I've already ended up splitting a couple of chapters up. Plot wise things should start picking up a bit more in the next two chapters and then we'll have some fun with another Akuma or two. Thanks again for all the reviews, you really keep my motivation strong! Happy reading!_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Wanderers**

The music grew louder as they reached the top of the hill. Chat was still grasping her hand tightly, his whole expression one of unadulterated excitement and anticipation. Had Marinette not been so confused by his actions, she would have found his manners amusing.

Soon Marinette could hear other sounds too, voices and laughter joining the fray. A few steps forward and she could finally see the source.

The bright red wagons of the Wanderers shone in the dusky twilight, like a ring of rubies in the high grasses of the hills. Marinette felt an odd mix of excitement and wariness in her belly. Wanderers moved from village to village, putting on plays and performances, telling fortunes and selling craftwork of their own making. They could fix just about anything, or so the saying went. Her Papa had a large iron pot he swore had lasted generations in his family after being fixed by a Wanderer.

However, they were also known as vagabonds and thieves, appearing and disappearing at the first sign of trouble.

In a land used to the difficulties of the Border and generally wary of strangers, the transient life of the Wanderers in their bright red wagons was somewhat disconcerting. Unconsciously, she tightened her hold on her backpack.

Marinette didn't have time to protest though, because Chat was already yelling out a greeting and waving at the assembled people. Many turned their heads, smiles spreading across their faces as they recognized the new comer.

He led her down the hill, seeming unperturbed by her hesitation. She let him tug him along, knowing it was too late to turn back now.

There were people approaching them. Chat let go of her hand as they drew close and an insecure Marinette missed the reassurance that came with the contact.

A small mob of children cried out in delight at the sight of them and charged. Marinette laughed in surprise as the tiny army tackled Chat. He went down with a whoop of surprise, making a slew of over dramatic moans and cries for help. The children were screaming and giggling as they wrestled him to the ground. A petite, brunette haired woman rushed forward, a huge, dimpling smile on her face as she quickly joined them.

"Up! Up! All of you!" she scolded the children lightly, "Go wash for your supper and leave poor Chat Noir alone!"

The children did as they were told, running off with all the speed they had come. Chat rolled himself up, shaking grass and leaves from his hair as he peered up at his saviour with a fond grin.

"Madame Cesaire!" he cried jubilantly, "Always a pleasure!"

"Its been a while," the older woman acknowledged, "Where have you been, troublemaker?"

"Here and there," he said mysteriously.

She clucked her tongue at him, but it was a warm gesture. Her dark gaze found Marinette.

"And you've brought someone with you this time," she sounded surprised, "Well? Are you going to introduce your friend?"

Marinette fidgeted under Madame Cesaire's eye.

"Of course," Chat said grandly, with a flourishing bow, "May I introduce Mademoiselle Marinette Dupain. My new apprentice."

Madame Cesaire's eyes went wide as she turned considering to Marinette. The girl flushed a little and bobbed a small curtsy, mumbling a greeting. It was the first time she had ever been introduced to someone as Chat's apprentice and for some reason, a shrill burst of pride rocked through her. It was real now. For a tense moment, she wasn't sure how the other woman was going to react, only to be surprised with a pair of hands coming forward to clasp hers.

"Welcome," Madame Cesaire said in a motherly tone, "You are very welcome here, Mme. Dupain."

"Oh, just Marinette is fine," Marinette said shyly.

Madame Cesaire was not the first welcoming voice. After a slew of introductions, Marinette and Chat were hurried over to the fire and hot bowls of steaming stew were rushed into their hands. The musicians had ceased their play and it seemed everyone was gathering around to greet the newcomers.

Chat ate hungrily, asking loud questions and passing on news as he did. Marinette ate her food slowly, watching the scene play out with interest. She had never seen the cat so at ease with so many people around him before. There was that open, honest expression she was just starting to recognize.

She felt a rush of warmth.

"Are you Ladybug?" a small voice at Marinette's elbow enquired.

She blinked, looking round to find a small girl with the same dark eyes as Madame Cesaire looking up at her. She was watching Marinette expectantly and it took a moment for her to comprehend the question.

"Oh no!" Marinette said quickly, "I'm not Ladybug."

"But you're with Chat Noir!" the girl piped up, crossing her arms, "Only Ladybug gets to be with Chat Noir!"

Marinette wasn't sure how to react to that. She only knew a few old stories about the sorceress and those were vague as best. Ladybug had disappeared a long time ago after all. Yet, the way this little girl was looking at her, it was like she had stolen Ladybug's place.

"Ah, but I make exceptions of princesses," Chat interrupted, leaning over from where he had clearly overheard the question, "And Marinette is a very _purrtty purrincess_ , don't you think?"

The little girl looked from Marinette to Chat and huffed.

"But she's not Ladybug!" she insisted.

"Ella!" it was Madame Cesaire coming over with some rolls of bread, "Don't bother them!"

"But Mama!" Ella whined.

"Off with you," she scolded her daughter.

Frowning, Ella cast one more speculative glance at Marinette and Chat, and then disappeared behind one of the wagons.

"Sorry about that," Madame Cesaire said apologetically, handing them each a roll of bread for their stew, "She's a bit infatuated with Ladybug stories at the moment."

Chat laughed, waving the apology off.

"Who wouldn't be?" he said simply, returning to the conversation he had been part of before.

Something odd flickered in Madame Cesaire's face, it was so quick though, that had Marinette not already been looking at her, she wouldn't have seen it. Lowering her spoon, Marinette put on a smile and addressed the older woman.

"I haven't heard many of them myself," she said with a little laugh.

Madame Cesaire sat down next to her, looking surprised.

"Truly?" she asked skeptically.

"They're not as popular in my village as they seem to be in other places," the younger woman admitted thoughtfully, "Our mayor often boasted he had a copy of the _Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir_ , but I've never read it."

"And I suppose you've not had many Wanderers visit your village either?"

Marinette flushed awkwardly and nodded. In recent years especially, the mayor had been very adamant in not allowing them to play inside the village.

Madame Cesaire patted Marinette's knee.

"That would explain it then," she said mysteriously.

Trying to change the topic, Marinette asked;

"How old is Ella?"

"Six," Madame Cesaire said with a fond, if somewhat exasperated smile, "And as curious as they come. She and her sister, Etta, are my youngest children."

She regarded Marinette.

"May I ask your age, dear?" she said in that same motherly tone, "You look full young to be travelling on your own."

The implied ' _travelling alone with a wizard and Chat Noir no less_ ' was there. Marinette blushed, but gave her age nonetheless.

"Chat's been a perfect gentleman about everything," she rushed to reassure the woman, "I don't think he would have done things this way if it wasn't necessary."

"What do you mean?"

"I uh…" Marinette wasn't sure what to say, whether to explain everything to this woman or not. Part of her wanted to, she realized, desperate for a third party to hear her concerns. But to talk about it out here where anyone could eavesdrop…

She hesitated.

Madame Cesaire read her like a book and glanced at the wizard, who didn't appear to be listening, "You come with me."

 **~ML~**

Smoke from the fire crept up into the evening sky and the red glow from the flames could just be seen from this distance. The sounds of chatter drifted out across the grassy hills, starting a longing deep inside that she didn't want to acknowledge. The woman shook out her main of copper hair, scooping it back into a ponytail. She adjusted her spectacles and opened her pack to dig out a book and a small bundle wrapped up in a white handkerchief. Setting these down on a large boulder, she took off her yellow cloak and laid it on her pack.

She had found a large, flat slab poking out of the grassy hillside. Millennia ago it might have formed part of some structure, but now only rubble remained. Still, it would do for her purpose.

Opening the book to the correct page, she untied the wrapped bundle and drew out a piece of chalk. Stepping onto the slab, she bent down and started to draw.

A golden witch light floated above her head, aiding her sharp, amber eyes in the dimming light. She kept checking the book, making sure every stroke and angle was correct.

A burst of music cascaded over the hill and towards her, carried by the sound of happy voices and laughter. Her hand stilled in its progress along the slab, fingers stained white by the chalk. She swallowed hard, a wave of guilt making her stomach churn uncomfortably. But as soon as it hit, she pushed it away again, along with the dim memories it urged to the surface.

This wasn't about her personal life, after all. It wasn't about _them_.

Chat Noir was there, him and that girl.

This was just her job.

She continued to draw.

 **~ML~**

Marinette soon found herself seated on a wooden bench inside one the brightly painted wagons. It was like being in a little house, with bedding and chairs. Like its exterior, everything was bright and colourful. Thick, red curtains lined the windows and above each rested a wonderful floral carving painted gold. The dome shaped ceiling was painted in emerald green and yellow. Trinkets and pictures lined the wagon from wall to wall. Near the door hung cook pots and drying herbs that Marinette could smell from where she sat. Every little space that could be used to fit something was filled. It was cluttered and the colours clashed, but oddly it worked for the space. This was a home.

So over a cup of tea and some kind words of encouragement, Marinette told Madame Cesaire everything. Every concern she wished she could have brought to her own mother, she lay at the Wanderer woman's feet. Maybe it was the stress of the past few days or the welcoming feel Madame Cesaire gave off, but Marinette couldn't help pouring her heart out.

By the end of it, the older woman had clasped her hands around both of Marinette's.

"Life takes us all in strange directions," she said softly, almost to herself.

"Madame?"

"It's Marlena, please," the older woman sighed thoughtfully, "You know, I was not born a Wanderer."

Marinette was surprised.

"I once lived in the Capital," Marlena continued, her eyes taking on a faraway look, "I was the head cook in a lord's house. I had a good reputation, money and a very secure life."

"So why leave it?" Marinette asked before she could stop herself, flushing as the words left her mouth.

Marlena only smiled.

"Oh, many reasons," she waved it off, "But like you, I was scared and unsure about the path that had been presented to me so suddenly. I was worried about what people might think, terrified about what was happening to me and more than a little confused by it all."

Marinette felt her eyes sting slightly.

"Sounds about right," she agreed shakily.

"I don't know much about magic, but I can tell you that eventually, you do find your feet again," Marlena squeezed her hands, "Just give it a little time."

The hands holding hers were warm. Marlena had several rings on her fingers that glinted in the lamplight. Marinette looked down at their clasped hands and found herself hoping the Wanderer woman was right.

Time. A year from now she would be home again. She just had to get through this year, and then worry about the consequences of her decision. _Just one year._

"I think I understand," she nodded slowly, "Thank you."

Marlena squeezed her hands again. They continued to talk for a time, mostly about life on the road. Marlena had some good suggestions for such travel and since Marinette thought it was more than likely walking around the Valley with Chat would become the norm, she was eager to listen. Marinette also learned a little bit about Marlena. She had four children, all daughters, though only three remained with her. She didn't say where her eldest was, but the pained look in her eyes was enough to give Marinette a hint. Instead, she sipped her tea and listened, happier than she thought to be in the company of another woman for a while.

There was a knock and both women turned to see the door to the wagon slowly opening and a masked face poking its way in.

"Safe to come in?" Chat asked, his eyes darting around the room curiously.

"Done eavesdropping, are we?" Marlena teased.

"Me?" Chat pretended to be offended, "Well I never!"

Marlena's rich laughter filled the room.

"She'll be with you in a minute," she scolded, "Off with you."

Chat didn't move.

"Is Otis around?" he asked carefully.

For a second, just a second, something painful crossed Marlena's face. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the expression was gone and the smile returned, even if the smile seemed strained.

"Ah! So that's why you're snooping," she shook her head, "If he's anywhere, he'll be checking on his animals. He's expecting you, I imagine."

"Yes, so he would be," Chat tilted his gaze to Marinette, "I'll join you soon, princess. We still have that dance to get to."

Marinette's face heated up.

"Save your toes the torture," she scolded him lightly.

He laughed.

"We'll see," and he disappeared out of sight again.

Marinette watched him go, surprised by the easiness of the exchange. Marlena treated him like he was her errant child, always up to mischief, but still decidedly loveable. The rest of the Wanderers were the same. The people in Marinette's village wouldn't even dare touch Chat for fear of offending him. And yet here it was like he'd come home. They slapped him around the shoulder, welcomed him in and laughed with him. Even the children weren't scared to tackle the man to the ground.

When she mentioned this observation, the older woman let out a laugh.

"And I was going to say the same thing about you!" she said cheerfully.

Marinette blinked.

"Really?" she asked, surprised.

Marlena looked at the thoughtfully.

"He wasn't always like this," she tapped her tea cup with a finger, "When I first met him – oh, about twenty years ago I think – he was very serious, very controlled. I was still new to the Wanderer life and hardly knew anything about the Valley. But you know, the only times I ever saw him relax a little was around a Wanderer."

Marlena let out a sudden laugh.

"My old mother-in-law, God rest her soul, used to treat him like he was a disobedient child," she grinned at the memory, "I nearly had a heart attack the first time I saw her grab him by the ear and tell him to eat something because he was getting too thin."

Marinette gaped at her.

"I thought for sure he was going to curse every single one of us!" Marlena continued, "But instead he just did as he was told and even managed to look abashed by it."

Marinette giggled at the image.

"Really?"

Marlena nodded.

"He was still quite serious though," she considered something, "But about the time he got his last apprentice –"

"His last apprentice?" Marinette interrupted, surprised, "He had another apprentice?"

Marlena's eyebrows shot up.

"Well yes," she said, "I think it must have been seven years ago? It was just a boy though, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old. He was very sweet, nothing at all like his taciturn master. Always smiling that boy, poor thing."

"Poor thing? What happened to him?" Marinette asked curiously.

A cloud passed over Marlena's face.

"I don't want to alarm you," she said carefully, "Because I don't know for certain."

"I'd like to know," Marinette assured her.

Marlena nodded slowly.

"About five years ago, Chat Noir visited us without his apprentice," the older woman gave a sigh, "He stayed with us for a few months before moving on and during that time he seemed to be grieving. He never told us what happened to the boy and we haven't seen him since."

Marinette listened, already guessing what might have happened to her predecessor. Chat Noir had a duty to protect the people of the Valley from the Border and what lay within it. Something, an Akuma or some monster from the forest, had gotten hold of Chat's last apprentice. Would she be in the same danger? Most likely. She wondered if the boy had had the same ability to purify Akuma's and had been used by the wizard for that purpose. A flash of resentment made her lips purse and she tried to push the feeling away.

"He changed after that," Marlena continued, a far away look in her dark eyes, "Now Chat Noir is the one always smiling. It's a little odd perhaps, but I suppose we all deal with loss in our own ways."

Marinette remained silent, a memory surfacing in her minds eye of that first night with Chat, the one spent in the Border. It seemed so long ago now, though it had only been maybe a fortnight since then. She remembered soothing a nightmare and the name Chat had called out in his sleep.

 _Felix._

Had that been the name of the boy? The apprentice he'd lost? She hadn't heard him calling out in his sleep like that since, but the memory of that moment stuck with her. How vulnerable and young he looked. How he seemed like anything other than an all powerful, immortal wizard. If she hadn't known it before, Marinette was slowly coming to terms with exactly how human Chat Noir really was. And it made her wonder not for the first time, what else he hid behind that mask?

"I think you'll be good for him," Marlena finally said gently, "I've never known him to open up to someone so quickly."

 _Open up?_ Marinette resisted the urge to shake her head. No, he wasn't open to her. There was still so much she wanted to know about him, so much of him she found herself wanting to see. It staggered her that in the time she'd known him, she was the one who had grown comfortable. Perhaps it was because of dependence. She needed him to control this terrible power within her. Perhaps it was admiration, he had saved her twice already. But then perhaps it was this strange desire to touch the unknown. She was the strange little girl who had wandered into the Border for thirteen days following a ghost light, after all. She was the same girl who had run towards an Akuma instead of away from it and had then followed the strange voice in the forest, only to nearly get herself drowned. Chat was there for all of it.

Chat Noir, the single most strange and dangerous thing in this world.

"But why the Wanderers?" she found herself asking quietly, "Why is he so different here?"

Marlena closed her eyes and when she spoke again, it was as though she were repeating some long ago verse.

"The Black Cat is always welcome where those sworn to the Lady dwell," she opened her eyes and smiled again, "That was the oath made and it's a promise we keep."

But before Marinette could question her about the strange words, Marlena was already ushering her outside to join the party.

Marinette skirted the edge of the gathering, scanning the crowd of people for Chat Noir, but she could not make him out. She stepped away into the darkness of the wagons, biting her lip nervously. The musicians had set down their instruments to enjoy some supper as the last of the suns rays finally disappeared behind the hills. The first stars could already be seen decorating the inky blue sky and a soft breeze tickled at her skin, bringing the smell of cooked meat and smoke to her nose. How many nights now had she spent lying under those stars with Chat right beside her?

She didn't know how long she stood there when Marlena came up beside her, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"He's over there," she said, pointing to a large wagon on the other side of the fire. It was further out than the others, almost buried in the darkness of the blackening night.

"Thanks," Marinette muttered thankfully.

"I know what you're thinking and you shouldn't worry," the older woman said finally, "He's the protective sort. Whatever happened to the boy, you can bet he did everything in his power to prevent it."

"I know," Marinette whispered, stomach dropping.

That hadn't been what she was thinking of at all.

"Madame Cesaire!" a voice called, "Come join us! Its about to start!"

Marlena's face broke out into a wide smile and she took Marinette by the shoulders, ushering her to the fire. The Wanderers were all gathering around, taking seats at the edge of the circle and the musicians were returning to their instruments once more. In the centre a man and a woman stood. The woman was maybe a few years older than Marinette with an oval face and honey brown hair that shone golden in the firelight. She wore red like many of the Wanderers, but her outfit was made from deep red silk. It clung to her form in a way that made Marinette's blush, even as she admired the contours of the outfit. At first she thought it was a dress of some kind, but a closer inspection revealed wide pantaloons instead of a skirt.

The man was similarly dressed in black, his tanned arms left bare and half his face covered by a silken mask, making it difficult to guess his age. Something about the pair struck Marinette as familiar.

"Sit, sit!" Marlena chirped, Pulling her down next to a man around her own age, the same person that had called out earlier in fact. Marinette glanced at him. He was a lean, dark-skinned youth who wore a pair of spectacles that magnified his eyes. Beside him rested an oddly shaped leather case that Marinette thought looked like a mandolin or lute case. His teeth flashed white when he smiled at her.

"W-what's going on?" she asked Marlena uncertainly, eyes strained to the two in the centre.

"You're in for a treat," the dark youth was the one who answered, his voice honey rich, "The Wanderers don't usually let outsiders see this."

"See what?" Marinette asked, turning her attention to him properly.

" _The Dance of Ladybug_ ," he said as though it was obvious. And peering at the man and woman – the dancers – once more, she supposed it was. Black and red, they were meant to be Ladybug and Chat Noir. Curiosity lit up in her and she let out a half smile.

"Marinette," Marlena introduced, drawing Marinette's attention, "This is our other guest for the evening. He's a bard from the Capital."

The young man nodded his acknowledgement.

"You're the girl that arrived with Chat Noir," he commented smoothly, peering at her with interest, "The name's Nino Lahiffe."


End file.
